See, what happened was *gestures wildly all around with my mini American flag* and that set me back as I took time to recover. January 6’s insurrection was exhausting then saddening then maddening, all leading to curling up again in the super soft blankie for days, then time warped until January 20, then hope! BIG sighs of relief! The narcissist is gone. So, too, then the daily triggers reminiscent of past experiences. Oh, how I enjoy boring government press briefings that could put a sloth to sleep and not checking the news every five minutes to make sure a nuclear attack isn’t starting because someone’s tiny feelings got hurt. I’m calm and relax-y and I think, “I miss my blog!” so I sign into WordPress and…. *faints*…. my last post was January 5. I was just saying last night to someone how I feel like somehow a week or two disappeared into the ether — are they in a lost and found box somewhere?
I look at my calendar, which thankfully Present Me has the sense to write on often with the activities that occupy my time because Future Me struggles mightily to remember anything that Past Me did and then every day looks the same, and they are, but they’re not.
I *went* to a writer’s conference that included a Zoom disco, and that was the most fun I’ve had in I don’t remember how long, even pre-pandemic Emily Dickinson-ing. The host changed his screen name to John Travolta so I changed mine to what I would be if I was at a dance in person: Wallflower. Just over here, holding up the wall, enjoying the perks of being such, as one does.
Red Lobster was obtained curbside for the at-risk person because I don’t cook fish and they wanted fish, so we got fish. I actually got a kids’ popcorn shrimp meal because I don’t know who they think these super large meals are for — their regular portions are GINORMOUS. I sent the at-risk person to pick up said meal in the trunk of her car because I may not always be able to and one must experience it to learn how to do it — barking through the window to PLEASE PUT IT IN THE TRUNK if the kid didn’t read the online order request or didn’t hear you the first time you said it, for instance.
Last week was apparently Mayim Bialik Appreciation Week, but only in my house, because I watched three episodes of her new show Call Me Kat, listened to her new podcast The Bialik Breakdown, and read an article about how she’s going to guest-host Jeopardy! soon. This weekend, I’ll watch a few episodes of Blossom as a topper.
I drove by the river, I don’t know how many times. I’ve packed the overnight bag for a quick overnight (obvs) at the beach as soon as the wind stops blowing Canadian air (cold beach visit — ok; arctic visit — no thank you.) I’ve written. I’ve lazed. I’ve hung in there. I’ve cooked. I’ve read. I’ve slept. I’ve dreamed. I’ve planned. I’ve hoped. I’ve chilled (literally and figuratively).
I guess I didn’t lose the time really. I just never knew what day it was except that it was This Day and I did what I do. Still, for current events and scheduling things, it would be good to stay a little more in touch with the space-time continuum other people seem to be on. I’ll set an electronic reminder — an email to Future Me saying, “HEY YOU! CHECK WHAT DAY IT IS!” and then, you know, I’ll know.
It’s Friday (I KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS!). Those are my fhoughts. To the weekend! (I KNOW WHAT DAY TOMORROW AND THE NEXT DAY ARE!)
P.S. Before you go… Music time! Enjoy the song stylings of Green Day with Good Riddance (Time of Your Life), about being happy someone’s gone, unpredictability, turning points, making the best of life tests, letting time direct[s] you where to go… My January in a pleasant acoustic nutshell.