This week has been a rollercoaster shit show of good days, bad days, a swell 49th birthday, COVID angst, life angst, adulting, a crap walk in the woods that yielded not one photo I liked, a somewhat OK ride south of town, and a few hours at the shop.
My Saturday plan was to mountain bike at MMCC. So, I was up early-ish to eat, coffee up, dump out, and get my shit together for the ride. Only I didn’t get all my shit together.
I thought I was up early enough to beat the heat on Friday morning, but it turns out I was wrong.
Friday morning was spent at the vet getting Lola her shots, and her nails clipped. After dropping her off at home, I headed to the shop for a few hours to check some stock in, and then to get groceries and supplies for an evening of summer slack.
I found myself up reasonably early on Saturday morning, so after some toast and coffee, I stuffed various hunks of blubber and unsightly manly bits into some too-tight kit and headed out for a quick 20 mile Better Than The Trainer Ride™.
[THERE SHOULD BE A PHOTO HERE]
To say things did not go as I planned since my last post would be an understatement.
Yes, I rode my mountain bike on Friday, and it was excellent, as was celebrating Wifey’s 49th birthday that evening. Saturday, I dedicated myself to sloth and outside chores. Sunday was to be a day of hiking with my camera. That’s when things started falling apart.
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 ____.
In my previous post, I talked of being on a mood rollercoaster. Well, that rollercoaster went off the rails and smashed right into a crowded elephant ears stand a hundred feet below.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
“I’ve got a ticket come ride with me
Let me go down on the merry-go-round
All is fair ‘n’ a big fairground
Let’s go slow, let’s go fast
Like a licorice twist gonna whip your ass.”
–Love Rollercoaster, Ohio Players
Other than having the word “rollercoaster” in the song, the lyrical reference above from funk legends Ohio Players does absolutely nothing to illustrate the mood rollercoaster that I—and many others—have been experiencing during Pandemic-A-Go-Go 2020.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
I had one of my best nights of sleep in a long time last night. It was also one of the worst. I would expect nothing less from The Bed of Torment.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
As Pandemic-A-Go-Go 2020 weekends go, this one was pretty darn, not bad-ish. I mean, if you take out the facts that for the first Mother’s Day weekend in about 7 years, Wifey and I were not watching B play footy at the Midland tourney, that any time I cough, I briefly spiral into mind-racing thoughts of having “the” COVID, or that I have to mask up to enter a store with no plans of robbing it, only to find myself surrounded by maskless rim lickers showing me that they have the MAGA American God1-given right to not wear a mask and help prevent the further spread of a virus. Yeah, if you take that shit out, it was all pretty normal and sort of fun.