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Jack goes with everything
What the H E double hockey sticks! I cannot believe we slid hopefully, albeit tentatively, into 2021 and then our meth lab neighbour to the south blew the batch and torched their own kitchen. Did we know this was going to happen? I think, deep down, we all knew it was a very distinct possibility. Did we think for one moment we’d get this far into the new year and not have any sobering, horrifying news? Again, I think we all knew there was a big pot of stink bubbling on the stove. But, as it unfolded, most of us sat back on our sofas with our coffee in-hand and watched in horror (all of the emotions could fit in, here) as the fancy-eatingroom of the good ole US of A erupted. A big grease fire happened, and DJTurnip and his insane son were fanning those flames from a secure tent, just outside of the White House. They were partying while the Party Faithful did the dirty, deadly work. The USA erupted into a hysterical, sometimes humorous, mostly dangerous and always a hatefilled mess of cartoon characters, dunderheads, devotees, believers, racists, misogynists, blockheads and social-mediamoment seekers. Yep. It happened. And as a friend said, “This will be one of those moments in history when each and every one of us will be able to say where we were when the doody hit the fan.” You know those moments, right? Where were you when JFK was shot? Where were you when the October Crisis occurred and the War Measures Act was invoked? Where were you when Elvis left the building? Where were you when The Towers fell?
And, here I sit. I’m trying to make sense of what’s going on in the outside world and wondering, for my own sanity, if I should “click” the TV PWR button. But I’m mesmerized. I’m possessed. I’m overwhelmed. I’m anxious. I’m thinking about the bottle of Jack which Santa put in my stocking and is now sitting on the booze shelf, unopened. I’m thinking about my blood pressure. I want a coffee, but think I should have a glass of water and go for a walk. To be truthful, it took the six days into this new year for me to lose my focus. I had so much planned for 2021. I was going to finish the two canvases I’d started before the festive season. I was going to put one hundred kilometres on my soon-to-arrive new hiking boots during the month of January. I was going to clean out my sock and undies drawer. I was going to paint the stairs in the front hall. I have at least two dozen books waiting for me. And now? And now, I’m paralyzed by the shenanigans of DJTurnip and his “sheeple”. It’s time to create a plan to get myself off the couch and back to reality.
This morning, Monday, the plan is to stay the heck away from the television news. This should be easy, but it has become so “second nature” for me to brew a coffee and plop my pandemic butt in front of the telly and see who did what, with which and to whom. It’s going to be a challenge. But, this morning, Monday, I skipped the early coffee and had a tall glass of water with lemon juice in it. I still plopped myself down in front of the television, and the clicker was dangerously close by, but I didn’t do it. I drank the water and chatted with LOML about what exciting things we would get up to this week. As it turns out, without television news to rant and rave about, the most exciting thing we have on the calendar is a four billion piece jigsaw puzzle we purchased in November for days just like today. The jigsaw puzzle seemed like a good idea at the time and, as far as I was concerned, the longer it sat on the spare chair in the dining room, unopened, the better it was for me. Today the jigsaw puzzle has taken over the dining room table and LOML announced, “As soon as this is finished, we can start the BIG Globe and Mail crossword puzzle.”
If you know me, and some of you actually do, you know I’m not into quiet, thoughtful, picky, parlour, group-of-two activities. I’m the kind of person who is tempted to hide one of the pieces of the puzzle and then hit The Trail. So, here’s hoping my new hiking boots arrive soon, or puzzle pieces will begin to disappear and four-letter words may show up in places where “that kind of four-letter word” shouldn’t be in a crossword.
Is the pandemic over yet? Where’s the clicker? Did the boots show up? Can I have “Jack” in my coffee?
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