NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
My family and I are not ill. Yet.
And we’re not “officially” quarantined for any real reason other than not wanting to come into contact with any more potentially sick people than we have to. I can leave the house if I want to. And if you tell me I can’t, then I probably will.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
I have tried and failed numerous times to write this post. In my gut, that sounds like my typical slacktard hyperbole, but it’s true.
Earlier this week, the talking weather heads predicted, nay, PROMISED warmer 40-ish degree temperatures for the mid-Mitten. They lied. I hate them.
Yeah, yeah, it wasn’t 25˚, it was in the low 40s/high 30s but with a good dose of gusting wind direct from the teat of the witch, so it felt like it was 25˚. It was your classic robbing Peter to get six and one-half dozen apples and/or oranges from one pocket to another to pay Paul to stay away from Mary (I think) scenario.
“Mary, Mary, why you buggin’?”
“Proud Mary keep on burnin’.”
“Hail Mary, etc., etc…”
I promise this has something to do with something, but I’m not there yet.
The same, the same, the same, the same, the same. Some days, everything feels the goddamn fucking same. Pardon that language, but some days everything truly does feel the same. Until it doesn’t. But then it’s back to the same. Know-what-I-mean?
A former mountain biker turned chubby part-time cyclist/full-time slacker with a camera recently said, “I suppose February will be bringing more of the same. Good thing, the same isn’t so bad.” And you know what? That chubby slacker was right!
Well, I’m glad that’s over! “That” being January. The month was long, sunless, dark, dank, gray, slushy, and boring.
It seems the beginning of 2020 has left me paralyzed with nothingness. Wait, no, that’s way too hyperbolic. Actually, I’ve just been a fleshy ball of slack and the innocent victim of uninspired connubial relations betweenst mythological weather makers.
OK, I’ve sat, drank coffee, and poked around the societal and moral train wrecks that are NSFW Reddit pages long enough; it’s time to get to the gym before the students wake up, and the lunch break, New Year’s resolution hordes descend upon my go-to machines.
I would love to post some year-end 2019 love fest, and how I’m looking forward to 2020. Since I lack any ambition to do that, I will just say that I am glad to see the ass-end of 2019.
