Where did the week go, eh?
A week ago tonight, I was hit in the belly by the iron fist of a stomach bug. I believe the bug was brought to me via some tainted chicken thighs and caused me to spend the next 24 hours in bed or in the bathroom with a dry heaving bung. Alas, I’ve said too much.
As I mentioned here a few times of late, despite my reservations and having fired myself last fall, I have returned to the shop to help out a couple days a week.
As the last week of being Not Really Quarantined winds down (for now), and most shit opens back up (except my goddamn barber!) this coming Monday, my week was filled with adulting. My outdoor activities were limited to a quick ride on Monday morning, a short walk around the Sylvan Solace with my camera for an hour on Wednesday (while getting eaten alive by mosquitos), and a 25-mile dirt road ride on Saturday afternoon.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY 80.
“I can go out. I can go in.
Out. In.
Out. In. In. Out.
Out. In.”
– Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H
I wrote the first edition of The Quarantine Chronicles 80 days ago today. With Monday’s announcement from my girl G.W. lifting the Stay at Home order for Michigander’s, I have decided that this will be the last post in the series.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
I know it’s wrong to talk of illness in the throws of a global pandemic, but given my two-year on/off relationship with my bike, for me to ride three out of the past four days must mean I’m ill. In an awesome, it feels good to sweat, slobber, pant, and wake up sore sort of way. Cheez-Its H. Rice, that made it sound like I was having sex with a bear. A bear, not a “bear.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
I think I must be adapting to this Not Really Quarantined pandemic lifestyle; despite a ride on Friday, doing whatever else it is I do, and staying up too late trying to forget about the year that keeps throwing poo known as 2020, I was up early on Saturday. I guzzled some coffee and shunned my intermittent fasting for the day as I smashed some avocado toast (it’s not just for Millenials, yo), and watched some action from the current greatest football league in the world (das Bundesliga) 1. Then it was a few visits to the Throne of Soilage, before waiting around to greet Bob the Irrigation Man when he arrived to reroute some sort of water line thing-a-ma-jig being pinched by a tree root 2. Three hours later I was finally ready to ride.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
It’s Friday evening, and I am trying to piece together another week of Pandemic-A-Go-Go 2020 as Bombay Sapphire hits my bloodstream, and Danzig hits my ear holes. Thankfully I have photos to cajole my memory. A mental fluffer for me if you will.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
Instead of spreading all my errands out over the week—because every day is an open book of pandemic sameness—I chose to spend Friday doing a week’s worth of errands in one day. I’m an idiot.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
Friday promised to be another ride-worthy day. And since it’s not like I could/would/should have done anything else, I rode my bike.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
Mere seconds after I pushed the PUBLISH button for yesterday’s word salad, my want to ride my bike went from a lowly “I’m Going Back To Bed,” 2, to a “Where are Those Silly Clothes I Stuff Myself Into to Ride My Bike,” 10. Not sure where that came from, but it did. So I rode.
