I’m waiting for work. And Godot. Once work gets here, it’s 10 hours’ worth. It’s not due today, thank goodness. I checked with the other copy editors and they don’t have work to share with me in the meantime, so I thought I’d get up on this and get up with you.
I guess one thing that’s good about having a pandemic right now is we have internet access. I’m aware not everyone does, but many working people do, and we can carry on with our jobs as necessary. I’ll bet nurses wish they could do their jobs online. Yeesch.
I would always have made a terrible nurse, as I am a nervous, unnurturing person. But if I were a nurse now, as my cousin Katie is, I’d just quit in a huff. This is why I am a terrible human who no one will mention fondly after I’ve shuffled off to Buffalo.
Why is that a phrase? “Shuffle off to Buffalo”? I mean, I know it’s a dance thing, but why? Why Buffalo?
At least I didn’t load my family into an RV and leave New York like that asshole influencer did. Did you see that? It was for her own “mental health” that she’s spreading New York City germs across America. They are headed “West.” So pretty much all of us from New York to “West” get to experience all seven of them shedding coronavirus across this great land. This land is your land, this land is my land. Now I’ve a fever, you fucking damp ham.
Speaking of travel, yesterday was a pretty exciting day where I got out and really lived life. I got in my car, while I was wearing a robe, and drove said car around the block so the battery wouldn’t die and the tires wouldn’t get flat. The last time I left my house to actually leave for anywhere was 20 days ago when I took Iris to the vet.
If these were normal times I’d be calling the vet about both Edsel and Iris. Eds is due for his six-month bad-heart checkup and I can tell his bad heart is progressing. Iris is seeming uncomfortable with her IBD, and I say this because she meows a lot, which she never did, and she wants to be either on me or sleeping on something of mine, like the laundry or my slippers.
I know vets are technically open for emergencies but neither of these seem like emergencies. Iris has been to the doctor 97 times and is getting medication and prescription food and the only thing left would be to biopsy her but I’m not doing that. The fact that she tested positive for pancreatitis is a good sign that she really does have IBD and not cancer, so. And I think it’s just uncomfortable for her, which breaks my heart.
And if Eds gets bad I WILL take him in as an emergency. But he’s got his medication, too, and his old man food. And his hip chews. Not that he literally chews hips.
Meanwhile, Milhous is a blur of young boy energy all the time and Lily is a gray lump. I don’t have to worry about either of them.
So tell me what life’s been like where you are. Is anyone reading anywhere where you AREN’T on lockdown? You know this blog is an international success. It’s the international blog of pancakes.
Speaking of which, I get my new grocery delivery today. I HAVE some food, really. I have cans of tuna and bread and Spaghetti-Os and Cream of Wheat and a whole mess of frozen blueberries. But you know what I am 100% sick of? Tuna and bread and Spaghetti-Os and Cream of Wheat and frozen blueberries. I bought too much of those things and do not ever want to see them again.
Someone mentioned they were less worried about their cat, I think it was, who had surgery and no appetite, because neither did I.
Maybe it was a dog, now that I’m thinking of it. Wasn’t it her child’s dog, and said child left it behind? Oh my god I’m a terrible listener. Anyway she saw that I had zero appetite after surgery and felt less worried about the cat or dog. THE POINT IS, appetite coming back. Unfortunately.
I was in need of mosquito spray (we already have fekking mosquitoes here) and scrubby things for the dishes and dairy products, so I got groceries. It’s been a few weeks since I last ordered, and now you can only get 2 of anything, which is good, stupid hoarders. And also, now there’s the option of “Leave groceries at door.”
I have a whole plan for when the groceries get here. Ima wear my rubber gloves since that’s all I’ve got. I will throw out all the grocery bags immediately. I will leave what I can outside for all the GERMS to die. The things I have to bring in I will wipe down with my wipes.
We’ve all become Howard Hughes. Without the cash.
I have to go nag Griff about what’s taking him so long to get this work to me. The highlight of my day is going to be nagging Griff.
Oh, before I go, two things: Did you see I found a feature where I can add a drop cap to my posts? Exciting. I think today if I have time I’ll play with a new template. This one screws up comments on the phone. At least I think it’s the template’s fault. The date crashes into the comment and Lu annoy.
The other thing is, did you see the Twitter thread where everyone is talking about how mean Ellen is? Just Google “Ellen mean.” I don’t want her to find this and kill me. Because apparently she meeeeeeen. My friend Gertrude’s kid used to say that. She’d screw up her face and say, “He meeeeeeeen.”
Anyway, I have always HAD an Ellen story. I figured it was an isolated incident. But perhaps not. Ellen used to date someone I knew secondhand, and when she, Ellen, met Portia, she basically came home and said, Get out. I’ve met someone else.
I always thought, well, I don’t know about their relationship. Maybe it had been bad for awhile. Or maybe all’s fair in love and war, and she was terrible about this because she was so in love with Portia. In other words, for decades I’ve given her the benefit of the doubt. She seems so likeable and does so many nice things!
But read that Twitter thread, y’all. Holy cats.
Okay, I have to do work. Get out. Shuffle off to Buffalo.