*** This little story really made me laugh and reminded me of a dear cousin, who is a pilot for a commercial airline. ***
I was flying from San Francisco to Los Angeles. By the time we took off, there had been a 45-minute delay and everybody on board was ticked. Unexpectedly, we stopped in Sacramento on the way. The flight attendant explained that there would be another 45-minute delay, and if we wanted to get off the aircraft, we would reboard in thirty minutes.
Everybody got off the plane except one gentleman who was blind. I noticed him as I walked by and could tell he had flown before because his seeing-eye dog lay quietly underneath the seats in front of him throughout the entire flight. I could also tell he had flown this very flight before because the pilot approached him and, calling him by name, said, “Keith, we’re in Sacramento for almost an hour. Would you like to get off and stretch your legs?”
Keith replied, “No thanks, but maybe my dog would like to stretch his legs. Would you take him for me please?”
Now picture this.: All the people in the gate area came to a complete and quiet standstill when they looked up and saw the pilot walk off the plane with a seeing-eye dog! The pilot was even wearing dark sunglasses. People scattered, not only trying to change planes but also trying to change airlines!
As I sat at the dining room table, eating my breakfast of BBQ Pork Fried Rice with a good helping of soy sauce, it occurred to me just how much the pandemic has affected the non-infected who are stuck at home.
When hubby asked me, “Why are you eating that for breakfast?”
My explanation was simple, “it has scrambled eggs in it.”
“I see,” he said. Then he proceeded to fix himself a bowl of the same.
Hubby’s modus operandi (i.e., Latin for ‘Method of Operating’, abbreviated “M.O.” on cop shows), has definitely shifted. No judgments here, just observation. Between the two of us, hubby is (by far) the emotionally stable one.
I began to notice little weirdnesses going on with me a couple months ago, nothing as dramatic as breakfast this morning, but slightly disturbing. I imagine that a mental health professional may see a few of them as red flags for – something.
Like the disgusting ‘frat house’ behavior. So far I have managed to limit this to only in front of the dog, but I fear that one day, without thinking about it, I will let loose with a belch that Booger could be proud of in front of hubby or at (egads!) the post office.
If you don’t know who Booger is – read no further. You are too young to be exposed to the confessions of somebody’s grandma. I would hate to be responsible for shattering your naivete.
Meanwhile, I go about my day apologizing to my dog for each gross noise I create, but I am not ashamed. Truth be told – I am getting really long and loud with all the practice. I’m almost proud of myself.
My personal hygiene tends to deteriorate when I’m anxious or depressed, but it has now reached a record low. Why bother to waste time “gussying up” when I can’t go anywhere, or visit anyone? Even the video conferencing does not prompt me to wear make-up anymore. I look so zombified on video with or without make-up. If I do wear make-up it transforms me into a Zombie Ho and who wants that?
Oddly, I find the whole ‘wear-a-mask’ thing highly convenient. No need for foundation or lipstick. And best of all, no need to wear those uncomfortable temporary teeth!
None of my favorite clothes fit anymore. So, I mix and match comfy with not-too-tight. Then there are days I fall asleep in my clothes and I wake up in the morning already dressed. A true time-saver, really. But after three days I get bored with the outfit and I need a shower.
Three months into the quarantine and my house is a filthy mess, I have too many hobbies to want to cook or clean. The guest rooms have been uninhabitable for the last 2 months, and their condition continues to deteriorate the longer we go without any guests. Large bins of fabric and yarn and unfinished projects are stacked about waiting to be organized. The bed is covered with the things I am currently trying to organize.
Our living room is more like my sewing room with a TV. Oh, and when I am not sewing, I’m working on the last few edits to make before I send my novel out into the wild. I will keep you posted.
I like to play DVDs of comedy and musicals while I sew. Yesterday, I ‘watched’ Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, and had a grand old sing-along for 86 minutes. A great way to finish binding a quilt!
Today’s agenda is Zoom Church, then begin cutting out fabrics for the first of three baby quilts I want to make this summer. I still need to design the last one, which will probably be a crazy quilt, if you know what I mean…
I do not have a Bucket List. My days are filled with too many lists as it is. Well, it’s more like one list and too many things listed upon it. I often overestimate my level of energy and underestimate how much time I have to accomplish everything on the stupid list.
I instead have a “Wishful List”. This list would not be like your routine bucket list, you know, things you want to do before you die. (i.e. you now have a deadline!) A Wishful List is where you write down the things you want to happen – to you or other people.
This list is for my imagination and amusement only. Occasionally, I may share items from my list with my wonderful readers, but some of my items will be private. I know y’all will understand.
Write a post worthy of being Freshly Pressed. It could happen. I have no idea what gets you Freshly Pressed because NONE of my 958 posts have qualified. Yet.
Go on a date to interview Channing Tatum. He would need a chaperone – just sayin’.
Get a small part in the 4th Thor movie. I’m pretty sure there will be another. No, wait! Co-write the screenplay – that would be so fun.
Swoon Reads falls in love with my manuscript and fixes the link to read it, OR, asks me to resubmit it. I already sent them 2 emails, so I will not send another. Sigh. It’s the waiting that kills your soul!
I wake up missing 30 pounds and every outfit in my closet fits me. Some are too big.
If I have to break off another tooth – let it be the sweet-tooth this time.
I’m successful in training my dog to dance with me
Something, not brain damage or anything, makes my hubby want to spoil and romance me like never before.
Some are more likely than others. The point is to entertain me. Try it sometime and see for yourself. I would love you to share them with me!