Posted on March 13th, 2020
I live each day in a Benadryl-induced haze so that people don't think my allergies are coronavirus symptoms. That would be bad enough if not for the fact that I keep getting curve-balls thrown at me.
Take this morning, for example.
I worked late, late, late last night and was still dead-tired when my cats came running in after the Alexa alarm for their 7am feeding went off. So I dragged my ass out of bed and made my way past the landmine of cat toys strewn in my path to give them their food and get some household chores out of the way. At 8am I decided to go back to bed for a half-hour nap before heading into the office.
Five minutes after my head hit the pillow, Jake and Jenny were running into my bedroom at top speed. I had no idea what brought that on... until a second later when the yard-care people fired up a thatcher so they could groom the lawn for Spring. The noise was huge, the cats were freaked, and I wasn't going to get any sleep.
Then, at 8:30 the Alexa alarm I set to "wake me up" went off, which got the cats all excited because they thought it was feeding time again when they heard it.
As I was headed to the shower I realized that the thatching noise had stopped and it was quiet... even though I only heard them working on the side of my home and nowhere else. I thought perhaps the thatcher had broke down and looked outside to see if there was a problem.
Oh there was a problem alright...
Might as well go to work then.
My cats were still waiting for their second breakfast when I trudged down the stairs...
Note that Jake is ON THE TABLE WHERE HE KNOWS HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE!
I'm all like "SERIOUSLY? YOU JUST HAD BREAKFAST 90 MINUTES AGO!!" But I was feeling sympathetic from the noisy yard work that scared them, so I gave them kitty snacks before heading out the door.
Where I had this greeting me...
Guess I converted my garage into a wood shop too soon?
I am going to try and do as little work-work as possible this weekend so I can get caught up on house-work that's been piling up. Because, just like with the snow that's currently falling, I really don't need an avalanche to bury me.
I'm buried enough.
Posted on March 11th, 2020
I wake up. I go to work. I come home. I go to sleep. Then I repeat it all over again the next day. I don't go anywhere unless I have to. I don't see anyone unless I have to. I don't do anything unless I have to. I wash my hands before and after every activity. I sanitize every surface I touch. This is life in the age of the coronavirus. This is love in the time of COVID-19.
My caution came highly recommended by the organization I volunteer with. They're based in Europe where there's a perspective on things that's different from here. Italy is in major crisis, other countries will likely join them, and absolutely everything is shutting down in an effort to halt or reduce the escalating infection rate. Meanwhile here in the USA I keep running into people who think that it's all being overblown... usually as a part of a conspiracy theory to reflect badly on President Trump. It's all fake news. It's not a serious problem. It's no more dangerous than the common cold.
Which is a load of crap, of course, but I guess there are people who would rather believe a bunch of bullshit than accept that their hero is an incompetent dumbass who would rather downplay a serious situation at the cost of American lives than look like an incompetent dumbass.
Today I had to run to tourist town to return something I borrowed for work. I wanted to go today instead of the weekend so I wouldn't have to see anybody. On the way back home I decided to stop at the store to pick up the only two things I can't currently live without... Coke Zero and Quaker Brand Chocolate Chip Rice Cakes. If I'm going to be quarantined, I have toilet paper, soap, and food. I don't have beverages and dessert. So... worth the risk of stopping at the store to get some, I suppose. I just have to be mindful of people and sanitize my hands after.
It was then that I saw that perhaps Redneckistan is starting to take things seriously after all. The grocery store was rationing toilet paper and paper towels to one package per person and the shelves were starting to become bare.
Blind panic is unwarranted.
But a little panic is probably going to save lives if it makes people start taking proper precautions.
Wash your hands and stay distant, people.
Posted on March 9th, 2020
I dream differently than most people in that I don’t dream very often and, when I do, I am almost always an observer of myself in the dream. It’s like I’m watching my dream on television and know I’m dreaming the entire time. Those occasions where I'm having a dream where I’m completely lost in it and believe it’s a real experience are rare. But it does happen.
Like last night.
In my dream I got an emergency request to fly to Mt. McKinley(!) in Alaska(!) so I could pick up some data from a scientist that was critical for the charity. Given that all my travel through July was recently cancelled (thanks, coronavirus) I figured it must be a dire situation, so I agreed. Hours later I’ve driven to Seattle and was boarding an Alaska Air flight to a small airport at the foot of Mt. McKinley.
When I arrive, lighting is crashing all around me. I hide under the Alaska Pipeline pipe(!) to stay safe and ask the ground crew where I should meet my contact. Somebody hands me a pair of binoculars and points to the mountain. When I look through, I see a guy frantically running while lightning is striking all around him. Then the person who handed me the binoculars said “Looks like you made a trip for nothing. That guy ain’t getting off the mountain today.”
Furious that I just flew all that way for nothing, and even more mad that I can’t risk taking photos of Mt. McKinley and have lightning hit my camera, I decided not to check into my hotel. Instead I get right back on the plane and fly back to Seattle after the turnaround.
After I get back to Seattle I call up the charity and they apologize profusely for having me risk catching the coronavirus for nothing. I hop in my car and drive back home, then snap out of my dream as I roll into my driveway.
Since that kind of realistic dream doesn’t happen to me very often, you can imagine how confused I was when I found myself sitting in my bed after having just flown to Alaska and back. It took me a few minutes to realize I had been dreaming it all.
And the first thing I do?
Grab my iPhone so I can see if there is actually an airport at Mt. McKinley.
Turns out that there is, but it has a small gravel runway and Alaska Air obviously doesn’t fly there. Then I get mad at myself for calling it “Mt. McKinley“ when I know dang well that this is the colonizers’ name for it, and the native people refer to it as “Denali.” Except to say that the airport actually is still called “Mt. McKinley Airport” even though the National Park where it’s located has been rightfully named back to Denali.
After getting mad at myself over confusing the name, I get even madder at myself for wasting a rare actual dream on something so stupid. I could have been a super-hero... or been in space... or making love to a space alien as a super-hero. But instead I have a lame dream about air travel (something I have to do all the time) and lightning (which was exciting, but hiding under a pipe the whole time? Ugh).
I’m totally blaming Daylight Saving Time for this shit.
And the coronavirus.
A part of me just wishes that I’d go ahead and catch the coronavirus so I can get it over with and have my life go back to normal. I’m tired of not being able to touch my face... or lick my iPhone... and really tired of having to wipe down my hookers with disinfecting wipes. That can’t be good for her skin. Or mine.
I'm going to have to remember to moisturize.
Posted on March 4th, 2020
Yesterday I saw a post from the moderator of a discussion group for my ink jet printer. She said that she went to buy some isopropyl alcohol (we use it to soak the print heads on our machines which are prone to clogging) and couldn't find it anywhere... at stores or online. She said that there's a shortage and if we could find some at sane prices we should get some.
So when I went to pick up my prescription at the drug store I grabbed a couple bottles. The shelves were full of the stuff.
When I went to check out, the pharmacist who owns the store told the cashier that they were going to have to start limiting people to one bottle after this or else their supply would be wiped out. I explained to him what I was told, what I was using it for, and asked why there was a shortage. He said it's because people are using it to make their own hand sanitizer since, thanks to the coronavirus, you couldn't buy the stuff anywhere. Apparently the recipe for Purell is two parts alcohol and one part aloe vera gel (though rolling your own is likely not a good idea).
I used to travel with a small bottle of hand sanitizer and had bottles of the stuff at home. I threw it all out after reading an article saying that products like Purell and antibacterial soap were causing mutations which lead to antibiotic-resistant bacteria. This is a very, very bad thing. Regular soap and water is perfectly fine for eliminating germs, and Purell should only be used when soap and water is not available.
Fast forward to my dental cleaning appointment.
When the hygienist asked me how I was doing I joked that I was feeling a bit peaked after returning from China, but other than a fever and persistent cough I was doing great. Then I realized that somebody who sticks their hands in people's gross mouths all day long probably didn't need a joke like that. Oops.
After my teeth were made all shiny I went to Safeway to get some walnuts and a veggie wrap for lunch. Since I was there, I took a walk down all the aisles to see if there was anything else I needed. Of course there was, so I started loading up my cart with $150 worth of things I couldn't afford but couldn't live without because they were on sale. Then I got to the aisle with the disinfecting wipes. The shelves were wiped out. Just a gaping hole where the wipes used to be. And exactly one container sitting in the back...
Of course I bought it.
I'll keep it at work so I can wipe off my keyboard and mouse every day to keep the coronavirus at bay. Or whatever. Probably not effective, but at least I'm doing something, right?
Maybe I should sell them on eBay for $150.
I may end up dying from the coronairus because my keyboard wasn't wiped down, but at least I can pay for those groceries.
Posted on February 28th, 2020
When it comes to my own death, I'm completely at peace. I've been on this earth 53 years... almost 54 years now. I've done my best to better my world with my time, money, and heart. I've explored the planet and fell in love with its peoples. If my number comes up tomorrow, I am fine with it. I am sick at the thought of my cats not having me around to take care of them, but I am fine with it.
I've had friends and family in my life that mean everything to me and have given my existence meaning, so I'm good to go.
But when it comes to those same friends and family dying? Not so much.
A year ago today, I lost one of my oldest, dearest friends. It destroyed me. It continues to destroy me. So many days I think back to the insane stuff we did... the many, many great times we had... the adventures that defined our relationship... those moments that he and I shared which only we two can ever understand... and the weight of it all crushes me. I want to scream at the world what an amazing person he was so they remember him like I do and they know what we've lost. I want everybody to hurt like I hurt.
But all I can do is walk through my memories of him, share sorrow with friends who knew him, and keep him alive in my heart.
And on my arm...
I don't know that seeing this every day will make things better or worse, but it will definitely bring a smile to my face when I remember him, so there's that.
And I'm in good company...
Project Semicolon was started by Amy Bleuel and is explained on their site thusly: "A semicolon is used when an author could’ve chosen to end their sentence, but chose not to. The author is you, and the sentence is your life." In later years it has become a symbol of solidarity for those who have survived the loss of someone due to depression, suicide, and other mental health issues.
For both my life and the life I've lost, it's sadly apt.
I wanted quite badly to end my life my sophomore year of high school, planned it down to the smallest detail, reached the day it was all going to end; I chose not to.
When I was caring for my mom in midst of her dementia I woke up every day wanting to escape, and was researching on the internet the best way to end it all in a way which would least impact my friends and family; I chose not to.
When I made the agonizing choice to move my mom into a care facility, failure consumed me and I sunk so low that I called a skydiving company to see if my certification was still good so I could take one final dive; I chose not to.
After my mom died I felt truly done with life and started getting my affairs in order so I could just make the pain finally, finally come to an end with the six bottles of sleeping pills I bought at six different stores two weeks after she passed; I chose not to.
Suicide has been living in my head and clawing at my soul for 38 years, 3 months, and 16 days; yet one day at a time I choose not to.
But I still struggle.
I think too many of us do.
After Robin Williams died I wrote about depression, a subject I am intimately familiar with, and have blogged about more times than I can count. It feels like my entire life has been spent battling depression, and those days before the battle started feel so distant and unnatural as to be unreal. I sometimes wonder if I dreamed my depression-free childhood because I wanted something to cling to when things are at their worst. It just seems impossible that there was ever a time when I wasn't struggling. When I wasn't broken. When I wasn't confronting the barrage of lies that depression whispers in my ear every waking hour of every day... and weighs on my mind all night, every night.
Depression has become such a part of me that, at times, it feels as though it defines me. I guess I'm lucky that it doesn't. Though I don't know that I would call myself "lucky" that I've managed to hold on this long. It feels more like work than luck. I've had to put serious work into the job of living.
Fortunately I've had help.
My family saved me. My friends saved me. Working for a charity which saves others saved me. Having to feed my cats each morning really saved me. And, because of all of them, I choose to save me and continue my life sentence.
And hold in my heart those whose pain cut so deep that they could not.
I love and miss you every day.
Posted on February 27th, 2020
Today I got some rather bad news. A project I had been working hard to complete was outright canceled. But then, after giving it some thought, I decided it was actually good news. Sure it means I had been wasting my time these past three nights, but it also means I don't have to worry about it tonight or stress over tomorrow's deadline! Woo hoo!
In other news... it was announced that Vice President Pence was put in charge of the country's coronavirus response.
At first I was all "Well that's nice. It's terriffic that he has something to do with his time." But then I was like "Wait a second... isn't this the same Vice President Dumbass who said condoms don't work and smoking doesn't kill you? Holy shit!" And, sure enough, heeeeeere's Mikey!
The anti-science assholes running this country make me crazy.
But what doesn't now-a-days?
Posted on February 26th, 2020
I was told last week that all my travel for March and April has been canceled. Today I was told that I should fully expect May to be canceled as well, and nothing is being scheduled for June. And that's just domestically. International travel has been halted indefinitely.
As much as I love the idea of not having to travel for four months, I am mortified at the thought of having to make up all the trips I'm missing. If this runs into July, I don't even think it will be possible for me to make up what I missed.
It's not like I haven't got piles and piles of work right here at home to get through.
Posted on February 25th, 2020
Thanks to Martha Stewart's meal kit service I've been cooking a lot more often. Not just her recipes, but recipes off the internet, recipes friends give me, and recipes my mom collected. I don't necessarily like cooking... I certainly don't like the mess... but it's cheaper than frozen meals and tastes considerably better.
Problem is that my cookware is less than ideal and that makes cooking difficult.
All my pots and pans were inherited from my mom. They are a mish-mash of stuff... some of which was probably a wedding gift over 50 years ago... and some of it just random stuff she purchased as she needed it. The two best pieces are Revere Ware that's in great shape but seems to have problems on my glass cooktop. They don't boil water so much as dance when you attempt it. Likely because the bottom is never in full contact with the element so it never gets hot enough to boil stuff.
Ignore my filthy stove (I filmed this right after cooking lunches for the week)...
In order to boil water, I have to stand at the stove and press down on the handle so it stops dancing. Even then it seems to take forever. For the longest time I blamed my stove, even though I bought it new when I moved in.
And so... I really need new cookware.
But do you know how many different kinds there are? Cast Iron, Enameled Cast Iron, Ceramic, Stainless Steel, Nonstick, Copper, and Aluminum, to name a few. There are pros and cons to each and I spent more time than I'd care to admit trying to figure out which would be best for me.
On Sunday I sponged off a friend's Costco membership to buy a new set (a full set being the most economical way to replace my entire eclectic collection). Turns out I needn't have wasted my time since Costco only had one set I could afford (my budget was $100, the cheapest they had was $119).
Say hello to my Kirkland Signature brand 12-piece Hard Anodized Cookware Set...
I have to say... this is some really nice stuff. Probably not compared to the high-end cookware that's out there, but definitely compared to what I was working with before. It's heavy enough to sit flat when hot. It heats evenly (something I didn't even know was important until I cooked in it*). The surface is phenomenally non-stick. It's oven-safe so I can bake in it. There's a great variety of pieces, including a deep skillet which I love. The lids have a built-in strainer that's awesome.The only down-side is that it's not recommended that you put them in the dishwasher, you're supposed to wash by hand. At first I was disappointed, but once I saw how mind-bogglingly non-stick these things are, it's actually easier to wash them by hand than trying to fit them in a dishwasher. Nice.
And, oh yeah... when it comes to boiling water? It happens SO DANG FAST that I was picking my jaw up off the floor. Turns out that having a good set of cookware is going to really up my cooking game.
I kept my mom's two Revere Ware pieces just to have them. Everything else I tossed. Usually I donate stuff I no longer need, but all the pans were Teflon (which will apparently kill you now) and the pots were banged up so badly that I'm guessing nobody would want them.
As I was going through my kitchen junk to see if there was anything else I could get rid of, I happened upon an enduring mystery... I have a missing bowl. Maybe a houseguest broke it and forgot to tell me or something, but there's one less than I purchased. It's not a big deal. It's not something I'm pining over even a little bit. But I would just like to know what happened to it, you know?
In the meanwhile I'm just going to blame the cats.
*Seriously. My old pots would bubble up in some spots but not others which causes scalding and burning. Even heating makes it so much easier to avoid this.
Posted on February 24th, 2020
I've been slowly gathering up my 2019 financials so I can get around to my taxes in a week or two. I'm in no hurry, because I am not anxious to see if my effective tax rate has gone up again. One thing I noticed just this evening is that I've gone from spending hundreds each year in credit card interest charges... to spending nothing in 2019.
That's a first.
And a far cry from 2015 where I averaged paying $45 in fees per month and getting nothing in return.
Money is expensive, y'all.
Turns out that paying off my credit cards and then working hard to keep them paid off month-to-month was worth the rather painful lifestyle changes it took to get here.
No idea where all the money I saved in credit card interest has gone... probably to my mortgage... but so long as it's going towards something instead of nothing, I'm happy.
I'd be a lot happier if I had that money in cash so I could roll around in it... but still...
Posted on February 18th, 2020
The weather is nice enough that I've started to walk to work again. Just have to make sure I'm in a long sleeve shirt and am wearing gloves and then, after a brisk seven-minute walk, I'm at the office.
And it was all good until I realized that I had to take home a bunch of notebooks, reference manuals, and binders that I needed for the evening's work. My initial thought was to walk home, then drive back to get everything, but I decided to use grocery bags I had squirreled away in my filing cabinet and just carry them home that way.
You may be asking yourself "Huh? Didn't he say that he had an injured arm? How did he manage that?" And, if you did, you have a better memory than I do. My arm was hurting as always, but at a comparatively minimal amount, so I didn't even think about it. I'm so used to the pain that I barely notice until I pull/twist it wrong.
Alas, I eventually did remember... when I was half-way home and unbelievable pain starting shooting up the back of my arm. Dropped half my bags on the spot. THEN I was like... how am I going to get these home now that one of my arms is useless?
I moved the two dropped bags off the sidewalk and took the other two to the field behind my house. Dropped them off, then went back. Carried those to my back porch. Then went back for the two I had dropped in the field. Surprisingly, nobody came along and stole them or kicked them, or peed on them, or whatever it is that assholes are wont to do.
My seven-minute walk ended up taking in excess of twenty, at which time I was so tired and in so much pain that I went to bed. Woke up to feed the cats. Went back to bed. Woke up to watch some television. Went back to bed.
Never opened a single notebook, reference manual, or binder that I had worked so hard to bring home.
Story of my life.
Tomorrow I'll be taking the car to work.