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 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 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 ____.
I woke up Friday morning to a light dusting of snow on the ground (Welcome to Michiganderburgh). Thankfully that would soon melt off, but the temps would never get above 40˚, and the wind was coming right from the Witch’s nip tip. In other words, it was a good day to head out for a woodsy walk with my camera.
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.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
The title of this post could be referring to the amount of (Lola) dog hair I find in, on, around, beside, below, and above almost every piece of furniture, in every room, and in every orifice in the house (don’t ask). But it’s not.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
I debated for two days on whether to do a Pandemic Ride or not. At first, I was like, “Nah, what if I crash or something and piss the hospital people off?” Then I was just lazy, and finally, on Thursday, I was like, “Fuck it. If my slow ass crashes so bad on a dirt road ride that I need medical attention, it was probably due to something that would kill me, like a 10-ton tractor.” So I rode.
Most of the past week was spent in the gym lifting heavy things for no reason, in the dentist chair having my mouth torn apart, or in various doctor’s offices having my brain shrunk or now mended ankle looked at.
