Or is it?
Saturday, December 26, 2020
My sabbatical from the outside world ─ three whole days inside, Friday through Sunday, no training, no off-premises errands, nothing to do, nowhere to go until Monday, is flying by way too fast.
It’s Saturday and my head is torturing me with chanting “Monday is coming”. Which is something it used to do on weekends when I had to go to work the upcoming Monday.
Retired now, having to get dressed, leave the unit for to-do’s and training is beginning to feel like a job that begins on Monday, ends on Friday. Consequently, I'm dreading Mondays again.
At any rate, I had a list of inside purging projects I’d planned to take care of, but never got around to because I spent Christmas Day sitting on the couch, online shopping, needlepointing and watching Christmas movies.
Not the sickly-sweet ones that I can’t stomach. My watch list is more along the lines of the naughty and macabre.
That being Bad Santa 1 and 2, which is a sick movie I find so hilariously funny that, though I’ve viewed countless times before, I still laugh and am appalled at some of the scenes as though it’s all brand new and, thus far, I watched Billy Bob Thornton in one of his more disgusting portrayals, twice more as the station ran it back-to-back.
Then there were a few Homicide for the Holidays real-life crime dramas, showing family on family, friends on friends, and good deeds ending badly crimes.
Some heavy-duty stuff there, but I balanced it out by
watching Love Actually, where Walking Dead Rick was shown clean shaven and English
Just look at that smooth face of his. Talk about something being pretty perfect.
I can’t imagine it’s still that way after working in the hot Georgia sun, filming Walking Dead.
Also, I further balanced out the naughty and macabre with Home Alone 1 and Alone 2 (Lost in New York).
I don’t know if Apache’s six-feet apart get together took off, as I didn’t go outside to check.
Thankfully, the power company removed us from the PSPS list, so I was able to make tamales after all. However, not trusting it, I dumbed the recipe down to where I only made six ─ nothing in the freezer for a handy meal, but that six was enough for lunch, dinner with a small salad, and breakfast with an egg this morning.
Actually, the process of making tamales for a single individual was easy breezy compared to making dozens.
I didn’t even measure, just tossed masa flour in the mixer,
added water until the consistency felt right, let it rest while the corn husks
soaked and, after spreading and tossing in a little left-over chicken and onion-free
garlic-free taco sauce, steamed ‘em and voilá.
Easy breezy and, unlike the folks I saw on ABC’s newsfeed, risking infection by standing in line for three-hours to purchase pre-made masa, this single serving method will be my preferred tamale-making process henceforth.
After years of practice in swallowing and pushing down, I was also able to swallow, push down and rise above the hurt I was feeling for Anjanette Young being so cruelly handled by the Chicago PD and the city’s attorneys.
I guess it's a little like the steps involved in the loss/grief process.
That last post, I was in the depression stage. Now, I don't like it, I'll never like incidents such as that, but I'm at the acceptance stage. It is what it is but, insofar as the "hope" stage, my only hope is that she gets a settlement that will bankrupt the city, put a hurt on the police department's budget and the individual cops involved.
This morning, watching news about No. 45 on the golf course, while the moratorium on evictions is coming to an end, unemployment benefits are ending, and no aid from the government in sight, I can’t but wonder how many who voted him into office are feeling now, as some of them must be amongst the citizenry being impacted — even some of those proud boys. And if not them, personally, their family members must be struggling, suffering as a result of what their idol is doing and failing to do.
Do those idiots now, in hindsight, see how they’ve been scammed?
Do they now understand that instead of draining the swamp, he brought the swamp with him?
Are they now realizing he doesn’t care about them, only about what benefits him?
And speaking of realizing ... now that I’m aware Biden is against the death penalty, and
may well abolish it altogether, I’m not entirely happy that I voted for him.
But, with the only other option being four more years of No. 45, I'll just have to live
with it and work myself through the anger process if No. 46 does follow through and abolishes the death penalty.
My last stream of consciousness is about that Nashville Bombing. The news indicated evacuate orders were coming from that RV and from responding police officers. One guy was walking his dog and, when told by an officer to get off the streets/evacuate, his response was “Why? Why should I evacuate”.
Fortunately, he survived because the cop pushed him inside a building just as the explosion went off, but what a complete arse to question why.
You wouldn’t have had to tell me twice.
Act first, question later.
Thursday, December 24, 2020
All is calm today ... this morning ... thus far.
Yesterday was a different story.
The winds were so strong that I was expecting power to be cut for sure.
Surprisingly, this area was spared.
The Archeologist wasn’t as fortunate. Hit yet again, and completely done with PSPS, she prepared in advance with a solar generator.
I wouldn’t know how to handle a set-up like that, so I went manageable ─ just a little portable, with just enough power to cook and nuke my coffee.
At any rate, the wind is not howling right now.
I’ll take it, even thought that can change at any moment.
I got ahead on chores by doing laundry and steam-cleaning the bathroom on Tuesday.
Right after posting that I’d scheduled it for Christmas Day, I had a burst of energy, took care of those two things, reorganized the kitchen cabinet (finding quite a lot of food items for Apache to take to the food bank), did tons of bending, stooping, lifting as I searched containers in the patio storage area ─ looking for a book and a doll I’ve periodically tried to locate for over a year, searched every other place in the unit said items would logically and illogically be stashed away (unsuccessful yet again) and managed to rack up over 5,000 steps in the process.
That’s like a 5K performed in my tiny little space.
Fortunately, Trainer took it easy on me yesterday with all upper body work, because my legs and knees were hammered. And, actually, even that was tough because my shoulders were pretty well worn from all the lifting done the previous day.
My next training session is slated for tomorrow, Friday, Christmas Day, but I didn’t ask to be rescheduled to another day. Instead, I told Trainer I was giving him the day off.
Don’t tell him but it’s more a day off for me, because he would have kept the appointment or rescheduled had I not told him to take the day, be with his family.
After yesterday’s session, expecting I might be able to reduce the tamale recipe down, not sure I’d be able to find corn husks if I waited, I popped into the market. It’s a good thing I did, because they only had three packets remaining.
After picking up a packet, I did a loop around the market and easily found Ginger Elf.
So cute. Whoever was in charge of hiding Ginger this year did a good job ─ in the wreath, in the security camera and even went the extra mile in creating this outdoor scene.
I'll have to send a personal note to the store applauding the creativity.
So, with no training and no marketing to be done that leaves me snug as a bug in a rug, with no reason to go outside ─ except to pick up mail, until Monday.
I was to have picked up a package, but did not see the notice to pick up no later than today or it would be returned, because the notice had gone to spam mail.
Waking up just a little sad this morning, I decided not to drive all that way in hopes of getting there before the driver arrives and throws it back on the truck. So, I’m letting that one go back.
Why did I wake up a little sad this morning you ask?
It’s because my heart hurts and, actually has been hurting for a few days.
I didn’t mention it before, because I didn’t want to bring anyone else down, but I need to get it out because just thinking about it is making me weepy.
I’ve been a little sad and my heart has hurt ever since I became aware of what the system did to social worker Anjanette Young.
Not only did Chicago PD, in yet another botched raid, break into her apartment, handcuff her naked, leave her naked surrounded by a dozen white officers as she repeated for 45 minutes, “You’ve got the wrong information. You’re in the wrong house”, they chastised her as she frantically tried to get through their thick skulls, telling her, "You don't have to yell", then they tried to cover the botch up. First by denying her Freedom of Information Request to view the police body cam video of how she was treated AND, as the botched raid began leaking to the public and release of the video became imminent, the city lawyers sought to block the TV station from broadcasting the video and also sought to have not the officers punished, but Anjanette ─ the victim, arguing that she violated a confidentiality order.
The cruel and insensitive nature of how Anjanette has been treated from start to finish, really saddens me, hurts my heart because I know it would not have been so had she not been Black.
Then there's Jamar Mackey, mistakenly profiled as a credit card fraud suspect, handcuffed and detained in front of his children as they ate in a mall food court.
There's just SO MUCH.
That's a question I've been asking myself for like forever ... Why are we treated so differently, so badly.
Can you imagine what would have happened to that guy who lay on the floor of Costco and had a hissy fit until he was allowed to purchase his groceries without wearing a mask had he been Black?
Because I really want to know the answer, I’ll be posing that question the next time I personally feel I’m being targeted because of my color. I'm going to look the individual in the eye and ask, “Why are you treating me differently than you would if I were not Black? Why do you hate us so much?”
Other than that, life is good and here’s wishing you all to a Safe and Merry Christmas.
Tuesday, December 22, 2020
Running into The Baker yesterday, I asked if she knew the identity of the resident that tested positive.
She did not, but said management has been lying to us.
Management lying is nothing new. Especially lying liar Community Manager, who’s a coward who thinks the way to keep his job is to tell everyone what he thinks they want to hear, make up contradictory answers on the fly.
Evidently lying to us is what Corporate wants because he's the only Community Manager to not be fired by Corporate for some time.
At any rate, The Baker said the current lie is more an omission, in that we were never notified of two recent Covid deaths.
One woman who passed away from Covid lived at the end of the row where Apache’s unit is located. She caught it from her family.
The other is across the grassy knoll, in the building next to where The Seer and Handsome Man live.
A long-time resident of some 20 years or more, she'd been in the hospital and caught it there.
All total, including the resident who passed away of Covid in August, that makes three Covid deaths that we know of — but management only told us about that first death, Head Maintenance Guy's testing positive, and that an unknown resident has recently tested positive.
If management hopes to keep secrets from us, give out partial information, good luck with that. The trusty Grape Vine will eventually work it's way around and spill the tea.
After catching up with The Baker, I then spotted Apache. He rushed over and the first thing out of his mouth was, “Don’t forget the get-together on Christmas Day”.
“Are you kidding me!”, says I. “We’ve got a resident testing positive that we don’t know who it is, who that person has been around, and I just learned of two Covid deaths”.
So, no more sparing Apache's feelings. This time it was an emphatic NO.
My big plan for Christmas Day (banking on having the laundry room all to myself) is to steam clean the bathroom while the three-piece bathroom rug set is in the laundry room wash.
With no need to go out today, except to check the mailbox — because we can’t leave mail overnight for fear of break-ins, today's plan was to make chicken tamales, eat some today, freeze others.
However, after receiving yet another Public Safety Power Shutoff notice from the power company last night, indicating an outage is scheduled for Wednesday (possibly sooner, due to heavy winds), that plan is also off the table, as there's no point adding anything to the freezer.
So, not only is there no Christmas this year, there’s also no tamales.
Hopefully there'll at least be power Christmas Day, so I can steam clean and do laundry.
Sunday, December 20, 2020
Binge watching the Food Network’s Christmas Cookie Challenge ─ all the episodes leading up to tonight’s final episode, inspired me to pull out that E-Z Build chocolate cookie train I’d purchased, give it a go.
Actually, it was not that E-Z.
Maybe it’s just me, but I found the instructions and diagram confusing.
So confusing that, halfway through, I realized I’d built the engine incorrectly, had to take the first car apart and rebuild.
I also had problems with the icing provided, in that it became dry, crumbly, did not hold well.
Inasmuch as, when I last decluttered, I’d tossed all my icings because, due to the pandemic, I did not envision having cookie decorating activities around here for a long long time, I made a quick trip to the market for icing that would hold.
The market was a little crowded so, though I looked for Ginger the Elf while there, I didn’t dawdle or put much effort into it.
While checking out, having not found Ginger, I heard a little girl say, “I found the elf. It’s on the television”.
I turned and, sure enough.
I can’t believe I missed it.
Not only did I check that area, but Ginger’s face is on blast in the security camera.
No mask this time.
Christmas is Friday, after which Ginger will be going back to the North Pole, not to be seen for another year. So, I’ve got maybe one more trip to the market, one last shot to find her on my own, before end of the week.
Though I failed to find Ginger, I did see a guy wearing an iconic mask. A mask that totally epitomized what it means to be a Black Man in America.
I asked if I could take a photo.
Back at the complex, I started back in on that Not So E-Z
Build and, besides wasting four hours of my life that could have been better
served working on that needlepoint, the having to take it apart, rebuild, problems
with that original icing, left me with a hot mess ... structurally sound, but icing everywhere.
Decorations provided in the kit, plus icings I’d picked up
at the market, helped to cover some of the mess so, though the end result in
no way resembles the train on the box, it’s not terrible.
If I try building anything next year, and I probably will, I’ll be sure to have freeze spray on hand.
Granddaughter also did a build this year. One that didn’t
come from a kit, but from her creative mind.
I think quarantine life is getting to her.
Last but in no ways least, a notice was posted to our doors a few days ago to the effect “Management has been notified that an individual here has tested positive for Covid-19 and is under quarantine. We are following all laws and regulatory guidelines with respect to this situation, including privacy standards. We understand that it may be disconcerting not to have specific information about the individual impacted, however, we must respect the privacy of this person”.
It IS disconcerting not to know who. Makes me wonder about my immediate neighbors. Probably makes my immediate neighbors wonder about me. But now I have a reason, that won't hurt Apache's feelings, for my not attending his six-feet apart Christmas Day event. That being, I don’t know who the person is, who that person has been in contact with and, this being a windy area, six feet is not far enough for me.
Wednesday, December 16, 2020
Had an idea the other day that I could make a pizza crust from gluten free bisquick.
Sure enough, I found a recipe, gave it a shot with a topping of onion free garlic free tomato basil sauce, spinach, jalapeno, roasted red peppers, leftover cooked ground turkey and whatdoyaknow ... it was a winner.
So, it was pizza for lunch yesterday, dinner last night, breakfast this morning with an egg, and the last slice was today’s lunch, with a dab or two of avocado.
Still delicious. In fact, even better as all the seasonings and oils had marinated.
I failed to take a photo of the original pizza, but I did get a shot of the last slice ─ today’s lunch.
It’s otherwise been a slow week as I complied with the stay-at-home order.
Well, mostly complied, as I’ve opted to not let Covid or wind or rain interfere with my “essential” training sessions.
Preparing to head out on Monday, I spied a huge tow truck come through the gate and stop near Assistant Manager’s wrecked auto, which tow truck position blocked me from pulling out of my parking space.
Fortunately, I caught him before he began the process and asked him nicely to hold up and pull up a little so I could get out.
He did and the wreck was gone by the time I returned.
I managed an early trip to the market that day for supplies and, by the time I returned to the complex, my tracker logged me in at 1,081 steps ─ which mostly was circling the market, going up/down each and every row, as I vigorously searched for Ginger the Elf.
Did not find her.
Certain they’d forgotten to put her out, I asked if they’d forgotten as I was checking out and learned she’d sneakily been mixed in with a Christmas wreath.
I looked in that area a few times but, because Ginger fits in with the décor, I didn’t see her.
I’ll have to look more closely at every single item next time.
On Tuesday, lounging around in front of the television, I booted up PokémonGo and caught the new Pikachu.
Cute, but why no mask I wonder.
It was kinda scary when I was reviewing the photos I’d taken to see these pop up.
I didn’t see Pikachu being photobombed when I was snapping photos, so this is an interesting, albeit spooky, twist the developer has added to the game.
So now I’ve got a new activity. Taking photos of my catches just to see what shows up.
Today was my second training session of the week, after which I not only did not head straight back to comply with stay at home but headed completely out of the area for a quick in/out of the craft store for floss colors I’m running out.
The needlepoint project I began in August of 2019, is using a lot more floss than I’d prepared for, and taking far longer than I’d expected.
My first target date was to be able to present this great works to Twin 2 for Thanksgiving this year.
Not even close.
It’s also not looking good for Christmas or end of this year.
Not from lack of trying as I’ve logged in well over 2,500 hours, but because the pattern is so intricate that sometimes it takes me a week to cover a one-inch square.
My new target date is whenever it gets done, after which I’ll have time to catch up on my scrapbooking and devote more time to exercising ─ the indoor bike and outdoor walks.
After the craft
store, I stopped by the bank THEN, being in the area of that market in the
nicer area, I popped in for more gluten-free bisquick (they only had one box), pizza
topping vegies, and ran across, without much effort, Ginger's sister
Holly, riding the rails on the toy train.
Holly, like her sister Ginger, is also wearing a mask.
No further updates on Head Maintenance Guy.
My buddy Apache is still having issues with Bicycle Boy (BB), only BB is no longer on a bike. He bought a car, but I’ll still refer to him as Bicycle Boy.
Apache and BB have a court date scheduled for some time in January to iron out their dueling restraining orders.
I’m beginning to think Apache misses seeing me around on a regular basis.
He’s been hosting, what he calls, six-feet apart get-togethers on the lot outside his unit.
There were a few moon-watch parties he’d invited me to.
I’d declined one, two, three times.
Finally, he asked me why and not wanting to hurt his feelings by saying I wasn’t interested, I came up with because they were night events and I didn’t want to go out in the cold.
So, what did he do but arrange for a get together, noon, Christmas Day ─ he says, just so we can all get together and see each other.
Just to get Apache off my back, I said okay but, of course, I’m still not interested.
Friday, December 11, 2020
That last post, about waking up to a bed looking like I’d been in a fight during the night, ended up opening up a floodgate of memories, initiated by Jan F commenting “That was some wild night! Do you remember vivid dreams?”.
I don’t recall dreaming much in my younger years except, in my early teens, being plagued nightly by a recurring dream of a giant domino falling on my chest, crushing the breath of life out of me.
It wasn’t until I was an adult, looking back, that I realized that was indicative of my mom, controlling every aspect of my beingness, stifling my ability to breath.
Once out on my own, I never had that dream again.
Married to the twins’ father, there was the recurring dream of a tiger. The tiger was in a cage, pacing back/forth from one end of the cage to the other.
I realized the cage was marriage and the lion was I, feeling trapped, wanting out.
Once I escaped the twins’ dad, I never had that dream again and knew my path was to stay single, stay free.
I don’t recall much about dreaming after that, though I’m sure I did, until in the mid-60’s, in a job I liked (business office of a medical facility), where I was liked by coworkers and my boss, thought I was treated okay as a Black employee …. until a new office manager and a second boss came on the scene.
That second boss treated me like a slave, had me doing not only my secretarial work, but her job as well when assigned tasks her lazy arse didn’t want to do or, maybe, was not capable of performing.
I don’t recall the new office manager doing anything specific to make my life difficult, other than backing my second boss, overworking me by assigning additional duties, additional people to help — because I had the skill and her having an attitude of superiority. An attitude of superiority office manager acquired because she was sleeping with the Medical Director who’d brought her in.
At any rate, between the two of them (the office manager and second boss) I began to feel very Black, unhappy but, with children to raise, felt I had no choice but to keep my head down and deal with whatever they threw my way.
Then, one night I saw a pretty little blonde girl in my dream.
Clear as day, I saw her face.
Would have recognized her anywhere.
I kid you not — she came on the scene the very next day, as a temporary worker, took a shine to me and one day said, “You’re really good at what you do, and they treat you like shit. Do you mind if I give your name to my agency?”
I agreed, and was contacted by her agency.
It was right after the Watts Riot and, as I later learned, affirmative action in the workplace was huge. Companies were scrambling to comply with government regulations.
Through the agency that provided us that temp, I learned I was a valuable commodity, in high demand. Did not have to take crap, because I was considered what they called back then a three-fer — I was not only Black, but skilled and nice looking. So, in short order, I shocked the crap out of office manager and second boss, when I was hired by a law firm and on to the next leg of my journey through life.
I never saw the blonde girl again after I left that job, but her agency said they were paid “a lot of money” by the law firm for bringing me to them.
Thinking back on it now, I was bought. Reminisce of the old plantation days, when slaves were staged on a platform bought/sold depending on what they had to bring to their new master.
That agency never told me how much I was bought for, just that "It was a lot of money". All based on my skin color, skills and professional appearance.
Being bought was fine by me, especially since, to this day, I can still see office manager's face when she asked me, "How did this happen?" and I said the temp offered me to her agency because she said I was good at what I did and you guys treated me like shit. Whereupon, office manager's eyes fell to the floor.
I'd shamed her. Outwitted her. She thought I'd be their slave forever and now she was being laughed at by office staff, which office staff, including some of the bigwigs, gave me a huge going-away party, which office manager and the second boss were not invited and did not attend.
I’m assuming the little blonde girl received a kick back from her agency for submitting my name, but it was all good.
I don’t know what happened to that second boss, but office manager came to a bad end shortly after I left.
Her arrogance at sleeping with the Medical Director was such that she thought she’d made it in life and was on to bigger things.
She began divorce proceedings (expecting to marry or be taken care of as mistress to the Medical Director), whereupon her husband went to her mom’s house, asked where she was, which turned out to be Denny’s Restaurant.
Husband killed office manager’s mom, drove to Denny’s and killed office manager right there, inside Denny’s.
To best of my recollection, he shot the mom, his wife (office manager), then killed himself, leaving behind a teenage daughter.
The co-workers that called me at my new place of employment, to apprise me of the happening, showed no mercy. Said they were happy to be rid of her.
The Medical Director, caught in a scandal, was forced to leave his position.
Since then, I recall many many what I call “telling” dreams. Dreams that tell me what’s going to happen before it happens, which has been beneficial to me in that, having this advanced information has allowed me to prepare — keep calm, non-reactive, not be hurt when it’s something I’ve been shown I have to lose or go through, as I've been made to understand it's part of the plan for my life here.
Twice, the telling dream was about someone else.
Like the time I saw a coworker standing over her husband. He was sitting in a big brown leather chair, remaining calm, trying to read, as she stood over, leaning in, haranguing him.
I never met her husband, never knew anything about him and she’d never spoken to me about him before but, from what I knew of her, it wasn’t difficult in the dream to understand the haranguing had something to do with religion — his not listening, not thinking/believing as she wanted him to.
The very next day, she walked over to my desk and began complaining about her husband.
I told her, “I saw you and your husband in a dream. Your husband is ahead of you spiritually speaking. Leave him alone”.
Her face looked like she’d been struck by lightning, so I guess she got the message.
The last significant telling dream I recall, that concerned someone else, was about one of the bosses.
My lawyer got a promotion in the firm and took me with him, where I met a woman I did not work for, but who took a liking to me and told me about her life — let’s call her Elizabeth, because that’s her name and it was years ago.
Elizabeth had been married to a rich man, who’d left her and their children, for a co-worker friend of hers.
At one time, Elizabeth and this woman, who’d stolen her husband, worked in the same office — desks just feet apart.
I had so much respect for Elizabeth’s having maintained her spiritual integrity as she went through that difficult situation, which ended with the ex-husband passing away, the co-worker inheriting his wealth and, with no further need to work, retiring, leaving Elizabeth not having to see the woman every day.
At any rate, one night I had a dream about Elizabeth. Did not see her doing anything, just saw her and a voice in the dream said, “Tell her it was her choice”.
By then, I was in a different department than Elizabeth, didn’t see her much and didn’t think anything more about the dream until, a day or so later, Elizabeth and I happened to be riding in the same elevator.
Elizabeth was highly agitated, saying something about her sister having moved in with her, and it not going well.
I didn’t know anything about the sister, about the situation, whether Elizabeth should have known better, whether the universe had told Elizabeth to not go down that route and she didn’t listen, but I said to Elizabeth, “I don’t know if this means anything, but I was told in a dream to tell you it was your choice”.
Elizabeth calmed down, took it in for a second, then said she understood and that was that.
Those were the specific instances that came to the surface today as a result of JanF’s comment.
On another note, as I was typing this, out of the corner of my eye I saw movement on the quad.
Thinking the figure looked like Head Maintenance Guy, I grabbed my phone, walked into the other room for a better view, lifted the blinds and waited for the figure to reappear.
him ... back ... out of quarantine AND, at long last, wearing a mask.
That was quick.
I’ll be keeping an eye on him and, if I see him in the quad mask less ever again, I’ll take a photo and alert not just management, but Corporate.
On yet another note, No. 45 had a very bad, terrible, sad day.
First, the Supreme
Court turned down his Texas lawsuit, then there was this ...
Remembering how badly 45 wanted this honor, how hard he tried to get himself named Time person of the year, I'm pretty sure he is PISSED! about this.
The closest he ever came was this fake cover someone created.
Wednesday, December 9, 2020
Had a good night’s sleep ─ mostly always do, don’t recall whether
I dreamed or not ─ though I usually do, don’t remember tossing and turning but,
when I awoke this morning, the bed looked like I’d been in a fight.
Heading out to pick up a package yesterday, I noticed Head Maintenance Guy’s (HMG) car was back in its parking space.
I’ve not seen him, nor any member of his family, so I don’t know what’s going on with them ─ whether he’s back, upstairs, alone, quarantining without family OR whether family is upstairs, without him as he’s quarantining elsewhere.
Like I said before, because I’ve seen HMG walking around without a mask so often, I always give him a wide berth when we pass on the walkway. Henceforth, when I see him or any member of his family, I’ll be treating them like I treat black cats ─ turn around and run in a different direction.
If that offends them, too bad.
Assistant Manager’s wrecked car is still on the property.
I guess the rules are different when management is involved. I say this because we have so many rules about eyesores. Residents get warning notices when they have one too many plants on their patio, warning notices to wash our cars when they sit too long and accumulate dirt/dust, and God forbid you have a non-working car or a car that leaks oil on the property. Management will give you a warning to remove the eyesore and, if you don’t do so within the time they’ve allotted on the warning, a tow truck shows up and carts your vehicle away.
I’ve seen it done.
Yet, this eyesore remains.
Rule follower that I am, I’ve never been issued a warning. However, if I get one for whatever reason ─ maybe for not removing my Christmas decorations within the allotted time we’re allowed to have them up, and that car is still there, I’ll be pushing back with “you first”.
Though I’ve seen no sign of things getting really bad in this area, pandemically speaking, it was unnerving when, just as I returned to the complex from picking up that package, with a side trip by See’s Candy Store, that the following message popped up on my phone.
It’s pretty difficult to stay at home when the power company continues to threaten shutoffs.
The Public Safety Power Shutoffs (PSPS) began coming back less than a day and a half after giving us that last all clear; which means, instead of keeping supplies in the freezer, so I don’t have to grocery shop often, I’m down to nothing in the freezer, shopping more often so as to not lose product.
The winds continue to be high all day every day, but no shutoffs here (knock on wood) thus far. However, the Archeologist has been hit twice more.
Spent remainder of yesterday afternoon watching the final few episodes of Chris Rock’s Fargo, which I’d recorded.
Chris did a bang-up job of acting, as did the crooked cop ─ the one that appears to suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
Can’t say I liked what happened to Chris’ character in the end, but I’d like to see him nominated for and to win an Emmy for his portrayal of Loy Cannon ─ head of the African American crime family.
Monday, December 7, 2020
Down to my last egg and needing a few other items, but not wanting to drive 15 miles to the market in the nicer area — in order to avoid mask less Wheelchair Man, I decided instead to just change my shopping hours.
The two times I ran into Wheelchair Man at the corner market, it was shortly after noon. So, I changed it up and headed out at 9:30.
I don’t usually see the world before 11:30, but found I quite liked the earlier hour.
The sun was just beginning to peep out through the clouds.
A couple days ago, I spied a crew erecting a fence across the street, indicating work was finally beginning on whatever it is being built on the lot — vacant the 9 years I’ve lived here and well before that.
Now I see they’ve wrapped some sort of canvas around the chain link fence, which has turned into an artist's dream for taggers.
The market was fairly empty, which made for a relaxing atmosphere while I picked up the few items I needed and looked for Ginger the Elf as I did so.
Having no luck
finding her, I was just about to give up — especially when I came across this
sign saying the sign itself does not count as having found the elf.
A few steps further,
I looked up and there Ginger was.
Wearing a mask she is.
So, the message at the market is that a cute little elf, no danger to the public, must wear a mask but Wheelchair Man is given a pass?
Making a mental note to be sure to point
that out should I ever run into Wheelchair Man in the store mask less again, I reported my finding Ginger to the cashier and collected my reward.
Arriving back at the complex, I ran into Apache who tells me Handsome Man had offered his services as security, but was turned down because Community Manager said, “We don’t want anyone who’s a resident here”.
Would have been the better alternative, as the bad guys wouldn’t be able to surveil him as having a regular set time. But, with his security firm being just him, though bonded, I can see the logic of management wanting a team.
Apache also tells me we’ve lost seven residents — six died, one is moving.
None of the deaths are Covid-related, though they may be Pandemic related because — this normally being the time of year when people get depressed and fade away, the fact there was this being stuck inside, lonely, nothing to do, no place where they could go, was too much. So, they passed on due to various non-Covid related issues.
Of the six to pass, I only knew one — and her not that closely.
However, close enough to know she was a teacher at one of the local schools, but was often off work because she suffered with Sickle Cell Anemia.
I always thought Sickle Cell with a disease that plagued Black people, but she wasn’t Black.
At any rate, the disease progressed to where she needed a liver transplant but was turned down because she had Sickle Cell, and she recently passed ... from liver damage I'm guessing.
The woman who is moving is that cute 80-something that had a crush on Apache. She’s had hip surgery some time ago and evidently is not doing that well. So, she’s moving to live with family in Arizona.
Not too long ago, Twin 2 was in a magnanimous mood and said, “Mom, if you ever need to or if you get tired of living alone, you can move in with us”.
I appreciated the offer but, in my head I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. And thought to myself, What me … get tired of living alone.
Hopefully, nothing will happen to me, like I’ve seen it happen to others, that would put me on the path of having to live with or depend on a family member — ANY family member.
Lastly, Apache confirmed I was correct. Head Maintenance Guy (HMG) is the staff member testing positive.
Apache himself queried Community Manager directly, as to which staff member, but was told privacy issues precluded giving out that kind of information.
Apache is nobody’s fool, he said, “Well, there are only four of you. And, I see you (Community Manager), I see her (Assistant Community Manager), I see him (Assistant Maintenance Guy), I don’t see ____ (Head Maintenance Guy) and his car has been gone for days, so it’s him.
Good to know HMG is not in quarantine here on the property in his upstairs unit, but elsewhere. I do wonder, however, if this was at the request of Corporate or HMG's personal choice.
Probably Corporate, because this place turning into a Hot Spot wouldn't be a good look for them.
As for the title of this post, The Lost Weekend. That came about when my actions, over the weekend, reminded me of the actions of an actor (Ray Milland) in an old movie entitled The Lost Weekend.
Portraying a drunk having alcohol hallucinosis, he began jumping, screaming, slapping at bugs crawling all over him, the floor, the walls. Bugs that weren't there.
I found myself doing the same over the weekend, only I didn’t scream. Seeing little flying things in my line of vision, jumping thinking it was a bug when one suddenly appeared as I was needlepointing, slapping at them until something inside told me it was eye floaters.
My actions were kind of funny. I many times found myself laughing at my own darn self, but stopped the jumping, slapping at, and took it all in stride as I used eye wash and Visine, thinking that would clear it up, to no avail.
Research online suggested Lumify.
So, after the market,
I popped into the drug store for a bottle, and also to pick up a cookie train
Don’t know when I’ll have time to work on the train set, but I used the Lumify right away.
Believe it or not, one drop each eye and floaters were gone.
Call me weird, but watching things that weren’t there floating around in front of me was kind of interesting.