Apparently, It’s Tuesday


As I start to type this, it’s 11:04 AM on Tuesday. I’ve been awake for just 12 minutes. And I fully admit, I had to quickly glance at the upper right corner of my monitor to see what day it is. Isn’t it just one long-ass pointless pandemic of a day?

“But Jason, you can’t let this whole global pandemic thing get to you. Do like you’ve been saying and doing: get outside, ride, hike, take photos, blow the stink off yourself! Just keep on keepin’ on!”

“How about fucking off?”

Yes, yes, I know I should do what the Do-Gooder side of my brain says, because the Do-Gooder side of my brain can also say wise things like, “Don’t beat yourself, girl!1 There are going to be unproductive days during this shit show. Somedays, there just aren’t going to be any hikes, rides, workouts, or home projects to take your mind off of Creeping Death 2020. Whether you act like it or not, you are certainly dealing with a high level of suppressed stress and worry. Give yourself a break now and then, girl. These are unprecedented times. Now go put on something pretty for me.2

“OK, as much as I’d like to ask you to fuck off again, you’re probably right. And I did get those new stretchy pants you like on me. I’ll tell you what, after I finish writing this, I’ll get showered, dressed, and make you one of your favorite lunches.”

Sorry for all that inner-dialogue. I’ll move on. But I can’t take too long, that side of my brain doesn’t like it when I’m late, and lunch isn’t ready.

I guess I was pretty productive yesterday (whatever day that was MONDAY! IT WAS MONDAY GODDAMN IT!). I bathed both of the dogs, cleaned B’s bathroom, braved the grocery store, went for a hike, did some laundry, made dinner, processed some photos, chilled out a bit, and went to bed. Apparently, for 14 hours.


With today (IT’S TUESDAY FUCKERS!) being another chilly, gray day, I have little desire to be outside on my bike. I also have little desire to be inside on my bike. Or lift heavy things for no reason in the Not So Stankment. I could go for another hike, and may, but I think I am just going to give myself a Slack Pass for the day. If something productive happens—fine. If not, that’s fine too.

Some random Slack Pass thoughts:

If I were a stock playing man, I would invest in Hanesbrands, Inc. Sure, their stock has fallen slightly in the past few days, but they own Champion, and I have no doubt that by the end of this whole thing, there is going to be a LOT of people who can only wear sweatpants. Or will have worn out the ones they already own from weeks of living in a buttonless pants work world. Might not be worth it until there are signs of folks returning en mass to the stores, but worth a look in the future. FWIW: I know NOTHING about the stock market. NOTHING!

I realized that once I get outside for a couple of rides, inside riding is pretty much ruined for the season. If I were training for something, I’m sure I would find the energy, but I’m not. So I won’t.

I also realized that I find it extremely difficult to lift heavy things for no reason at home. It seems I need to be sweating and grunting amongst other sweating and grunting people while pointlessly lifting heavy things. Sadly, not lifting at home is going to have me tucking my pecs into the waistband of my maxed-out stretchy pants by the time this shit is over.

Why is there no garlic at the grocery store? I mean not ONE bulb!! Why are people hoarding garlic??

I woke up with my ass cheeks hurting today, and I’m not sure why. I don’t remember doing any squats yesterday. Could it be from wrestling bulldogs3in the bathtub? Either that or I was working on my turd clenching fitness in my sleep.

Lastly, I had a brief moment before typing this post that I wondered why I start each post of these Quarantine Chronicles with NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____. Why don’t I put the day’s number? Then it hit me. Because I don’t how many days it’s been. How many it will be, or even what the fuck day it is. IT’S TUESDAY! TOO-IZ-DAYYYYY!!

It is indeed Tuesday. I think.




  1. The Do-Gooder side of my brain often refers to me as “Girl.” I’m not sure why.
  2. Apparently, the Do-Gooder side of my brain that calls me “girl” also acts like a 1950’s era misogynist husband now and again.
  3. Not code for sex.

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