We turned on CNN this evening to Mariah Carey self-promoting her memoir on Anderson/Andy’s New Year’s Eve special, which is about as #2020 as it gets.
My next blog post was going to be funny. And then I got busy and haven't written it yet and now I'm mad about something else entirely. So, funny is coming. In the interim, in case you happen to be female, an academic, have a terminal degree in your field in something other than medicine, or all of the above, this is for you.
I was largely offline this weekend, which meant I was a bit behind on the news when I played catch-up at o-dark-hundred this morning when I wasn't sleeping, which I hear is what normal people do at that time. So, I am slightly behind on blowing my top at the weekend's helping of sexism, but just in time for the follow-up quotes.
It's been a month since I last wrote, and what a month it has been. I'm fairly confident the entire world is just exhausted, slightly feral, and ready to sit in a quiet corner with no bright lights or loud sounds for a little while.
And now its Friday the 13th.
But here's the deal; I'm pretty sure I've blown out my anxiety meter. I just can't get to "I care and I'm worried" levels and I think it may be because you can only have so many anxiety-induced migraines and panic attacks before your brain shorts out. I'm feeling like Ford Prefect in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, who looks at Earth being demolished with mild curiosity, instead of being Arthur Dent who is, justifiably, freaking the hell out.
Eric went in for a hernia repair on Wednesday. We were up early in the morning to get to the hospital, which is a little unsettling in and of itself during the time of Covid. We passed our screening, and went to the outpatient surgical center to check in. They took Eric back and I had some time to work before they had him settled in pre-op and I could go back to see him. We saw the doctor, hung around with little else to do but wait, and a couple hours later, they wheeled him off. I have to say, there's a gut check you have when the anesthesiologist comes in and informs you that this form of sedation includes a tube down your husband's throat and the doctor "breathing for you." I maybe could have done without that.
I miss travel, but I didn't realize...
United Airlines also misses me.
The list of (first world, trivial) things Covid-19 has taken from us seems to never end. Races, vacations, the ability to go to the office. Seeing other people. Hugs. In-person church. Not feeling like every venture out is like navigating the cave in the Goonies and NEVER EVER getting to One-Eyed Willie's ship. We have tried to be grateful for the time this has given us together, tried not to be (too) whiny, tried to take stock of our blessing.
But this latest...
My husband, former high school, college and semi-pro player and former high school coach, may never recover.
After five months of closure, they finally came to an agreement! There is now a free reservation system, and for the first couple of weeks, they are limiting reservations to (I think) 35 every 30 minutes.
I got my first reservation this morning.
|Newest round of letters to kids, out today. Because kids|
should get mail when they are stuck at home.