Between Panic And Calm, Love And Loathing, Us And Them, Healers And Hoarders, Is My Chihuahua

For months before my location closed and that part of my life ended, oh, how I had craved for some time to myself, to be the hermit again, relish my introvert, soothed by solitude. Now I find that I am sleeping longer, and this cocooning has been my guilty pleasure.

As such my days have not changed all that much. I mean, I’ve languished in this blissful solitude since mid-February already, now I just have more company.

At first, it felt like I was all alone, being one of those with just enough wisdom to know, enough to trust what my spidey senses were telling me, and knowing the mainstream media was NOT over hyping this. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that contrary to what most thought, this thing on the way was real. WHO docs were ringing the alarm, and many countries took heed. Some did not. Some that really should have.

Anyway, I just haven’t really done a lot but gaze in horror at this storm I saw coming. Suppose mom that is one gift I am grateful for from my time as a Library Tech, slinging knowledge, I gained the ability to discern the quality of a news source, the knowledge of where to look, invaluable tool in this chaotic gaslit clusterfockry.

My teeth now kind of seem so insignificant, I mean, at first all my anxiety was focused over the teeth, the money, the removing, the replacing, and course anxiety over losing my job, and those days seem so incredibly distant.

I have a whole heck of a lot of company now, like 1/4 of the world is on lockdown inside their homes, venturing out for JUST necessities, as that’s all that’s open.

I’d crawl to my bed, throw Pika in her crate, and turn on an episode of Time Team and zen out.

Try to distract myself, but than again I’m obsessively scrolling through my infernal twitter newsfeed. It overwhelms me.

Many haven’t taken it seriously.

Now, or this last week, with so much more of society screeching to a halt, those afternoon naps are less, as my dread has been soothed a bit. Some easing of my nerves has been due to our governments calm and decisive action, well usually. More reassured by their measured response, and their toughening up of the noose to keep us all in our homes.

And this kind of Twilight Zone reality descends upon the seething masses.

Crashed into New York City hard, and the numbers infected climb, the bodies now stored in temporary cold storage containers from the receiving doors of a hospital somewhere in that city that never sleeps.

Magic lies in between things, between the day and the night, between yellow and blue, between any two things.

Charles de Lint, The Onion Girl

Couple things of note from back at the Homestead. First off, I noted ol’Lexter’s magnificence… case in point.

So, your oldest granddaughter was voted off the quarantine island for her blind and youthful desire to see her boyfriend in the wee hours one night a few days back.

Poor girl, not for being kicked out she’s a big girl she was told and made her choice. I mean, she’s living with her boyfriend at his parents, she’s fine.

No, pity to learn the hard way that her mother is the Queen of deception and a Grand Master at being sneaky, so her little escapade in the middle of the night was discovered with ease by Lex simply by her eagle eyes noticing the car keys lying on the counter the next morning, that had not been there the night before.

Yeah, poor thing. I’m actually still laughing, truth be told.

The other one is biding her time, and sweet 16 for her was a little bitter, but a birthday she will remember.

So we are all having to compromise, one way or another, and so the three of them are looking for creative ways to not murder one another.

Lex and co actually have taken up the popular co-worker model, giving everyone a title, even their dog, Stella. A title, a job, a purpose.

But for me, since nothing has changed that much, Pika and me are lockdown companions. And since she’s a dog, when she bugs me during the day, I just scoop up the wee daemon ninja weasel and put her in her crate – which generally co-workers don’t appreciate, and they won’t stay so quiet, curl up and go to sleep, if you say lock them in a closet.

There is no real routine, coffee in the morning, quiet days listening to the CBC radio, the music station not the news, BLAH. Handing out lots of treats to keep her busy, and walks when the days are sunny, hunkering down inside when they’re not. Watching, listening, writing to you.

Between the solitude and the insanity taking hold down yonder south of the 49th, I’ve found I am shying away more and more from knowing everything, and far less scrolling through twitter. It’s too much.

That tightness, that feeling that someone has a hold of my heart, at times is overwhelming. I am not alone in that. I just can not watch as that place where I was born devolves into, I don’t know what.

Dear lord, there is just sooooo much going on down there, it is just absolute madness to watch… thankfully from this safe distance up here in the actual Great White North.

Of course, a blanket of the fluffy white shite fell a couple of days ago… that long goodbye that winter always makes.

There was too much going on here — too much that strayed from odd all the way over into seriously weird.

Charles de Lint, Someplace to Be Flying

Dad reports that the great and stupid are in full force down in his neck of the world, with a couple restuarants in town closing, than opening up in a tent in the parking lot and jamming everyone in there instead. {rolling eyes}.

People are supposed to be keeping a physical distance of atleast 7 or so feet apart, and stuffing a bunch of folks into a tent in a line doesn’t seem like the best plan for not spreading shite amongst the old, the young and the racist. So, dad might have his faults, and still don’t understand him what-so-ever, but he can recognize dumb when he sees it, at least he has good common sense.

Oh, the States, mom, they are in trouble. They are on a collision course to hell, and there is just nothing anyone can do but watch. They are soon going to be the epicentre of this pandemic, and all those racist xenophobic twits will get their just desserts when the rest of the world starts calling it the American Virus.

But enough of that. Ugh.

MsPenny to the rescue the other day, with all the subterfuge of an elicit drug deal, she dropped off a thing of toilet paper at the edge of my little hedgeway.

Toilet Paper, like worldwide, has become a precious commodity, rare as hens teeth. So, I came round her 7-feet away in a wide arc, grabbed the precious package. It was so weird, and we both said as much. Times of fear, worry, even panic, so many losing their jobs, not knowing where to turn, and I know I am blessed. So thankful for my small but mighty circle I have around me.

Needed a long long walk, and it was a beautiful spring day yesterday, and so Pika and I took a stroll, winding our way through the village, left, right, left right, crossing over the other sidewalk, taking the streets where no one walked. Destination, one of those spots I have tucked away inside to sneak off to where few will go. My secret spots, those little trails along the river, under bridges, down ways where Pika has not been yet.

The air was mild, the sun shone down and everything felt far away, all the doom and gloom whisked away on the fresh afternoon breeze.

But it felt weird at first, you know, being outside for so long. Every time we’ve gone for a walk farther than around the block, like I’m being watched, like being outside is wrong, which it’s not. Long as I stick to my secret paths, and that I’m not sick or anything, no reason to not be outside.

Need to do that more often, go farther a field, I’m going a little bonkers.

Still, forget, I can sit on the stoop and watch the odd car pass by, I suppose.

Anywho mom, here’s some pics from today, Love ya.
PaulaB

I do believe in an everyday sort of magic — the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone.

Charles de Lint
[ intro + the 1st letter ]

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