NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
Hello Wednesday. If that’s who you really are. You seem a lot like Tuesday, you’re acting a bit like Monday, and you’re trying to get me to do Friday things. OK, I’m all in on Friday things, I really don’t care.
I was hoping that a good night of sleep and some good ol’ fucked up dreams would have me refreshed and spanky like it did after a particularly brain fart of a day last week, but it didn’t. I woke up eager to return to my Bed of Stink two minutes after I let the dogs out and took some coffee to Wifey, who was working in the office/spare bedroom (Formerly The Chamber of Farts). And I did.
Second Sleep was a lot of tossing and turning, with only a few brief moments of slumber, so I decided to re-start my day.
Finally, after what seemed like hours (it was more like 20 minutes) of my daily allotted time sitting in front of the computer looking at the surreal-as-fuck news and fact-checking the lies and falsehoods the Orange Fuck Face and his closeted, chode craving white-haired sycophantic boy toy cooked up overnight, I decided to get my shit together and go for a quick walk with my camera at the Sylvan Preserve.
I was less than enthused about going but knew I needed to do something outside to unfuck my head. So out into another gray, pandemic-filled day, I went.
The Ricoh GR in all its palm sized CMOS sensor glory.
I decided to mix things up a bit and take the palm-sized Ricoh GR camera with me1. It’s a fantastic little camera and has helped me capture some great images over the past couple of years. And unlike my mirrorless and DSLR cameras, I can just stuff the Ricoh in a jacket pocket.
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I walked, I did some contemplation, I took some photos, and I started to feel the unfucking of my head slowly happen. Well, as much as my head is ever truly unfucked.
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I skulked along the river a bit, saw some river muscles in the mud, and a nice bunch of photogenic skunk cabbage, and then headed for a quick stop at the increasingly freak-filled grocery store before heading home2.
My goal was to get in and out quick with a package of flour tortillas that would be used to make some shredded chicken tacos for dinner. What I found was one of the most disturbing things I’ve ever seen in my life! The shelf in the Mexican food aisle that is usually packed bottom to top with every size and make of flour and corn tortillas was completely empty. Except for one single package of semi-tasteless low-carb tortillas. NOW THINGS HAVE GONE TOO FAR!! First, the pandemic hoards buy up all the garlic in Michigan, NOW all the flour tortillas? Why can’t they just horde toilet paper and leave the garlic and tortillas for me?
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I bought the tortillas, because what if I never see flour tortillas again? But bought them knowing that they were completely unworthy of being the vehicle for my shredded chicken tacos and would be used for emergency use only.
Since I didn’t want that trip to the store to buy a package of shitty, low-carb tortillas to be known as the trip that has me stricken by Plague-2020, I also picked up a 4 pack of Founder’s 4 Giants IPA. That way, if I get sick and die, at least I didn’t die in vain. OK, I would have died in vain, but at least I would have enjoyed a few IPAs before doing so.
I should ride today, but right now, I’m not feeling it. I had some brief energy bursts lately that have me wanting to rip out our front landscaping to eventually lay rock and new shrubs down, but that energy could go away as fast as it came. In fact, I think it already did. I guess there’s always a return to the Bed of Stink or going on another death-defying search for flour tortillas. I want some Goddamn chicken tacos!
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UPDATE: I did end up riding a short 22-mile loop from the Cul-De-Sac-Shack. It was pretty amaze. Subpar, uninteresting deetz in tomorrow’s Quarantine Chronicles.
- My GR is the 2nd gen model, the first GR with a CMOS sensor.
- On this trip, I actually saw a dude wearing a full-body protective suit and mask. Not the sort that actually protects you from anything, this looked like it was made out of gauze and was thin enough for a phlegm spore to rip right through. He sort of looked like he should have been working in a chocolate factory or something.