COVID-19 Journal: Day 50

Remember the idiots? Well, it might be me. I've been cooking this post up all day, and I had this tiny violin all tuned up to talk about soothing, and if you're flying solo, getting soothed is rare. And no, getting drunk is not the same. I was thinking about soothing because I've had an irritated eye for... months now? I checked with the internet about a week ago and just after cancer is said a warm compress will probably help and may even clear out whatever is wrong. So, I've been doing that, and it was very soothing, so I started thinking about soothing.

Ubiquitous headphones
Look, I even took this picture of me #bestlife compressing →

It was annoying enough that I was considering going to the doctor. I distracted myself with some gardening, played with the cat, and puffed up the cushions. And then, my neck got super red and itchy, and on my face. Bing! Ohhhhhh.

The solution is not missing being soothed, FFS. The solution is CHEMISTRY. After I took some possibly expired ZYRTEC, the thing that'd been bugging me for fucking months disappeared in under an hour. FFS.


Happy Mother's Day, darling Mum (and Dad). I miss you too. A lot (and Dad). (And Cath.) (And Andy and the Swiss Family Oateses.)

The bamboo is now being attended to. You have to clear out the dead stuff. You shouldn't have dead stuff if you're on it like a day trader or the set dresser of Crouching Tiger. But if you're not, there'll be dead stuff. The dead stuff is hot pandemic currency. I've grouped into four girth/length groups, and trimmed. It's very satisfying. I find classification so enjoyable I've gambled my career on it being interesting. Just kidding. It's interesting.

But then, something very entertaining happened. I discovered a new show, called Avenue 5. It's like WIA fucked The Love Boat. In space. Absolutely the best thing I saw on the internet today. I'll probably watch it again. There are constant space problems and blundering through. With the directness you must need in that situation which is frankly refreshing. Direct like Szechuan peppers.

"You can do this, because frankly, you have to."

It's perfect for now (and shockingly on point in some places) because it's about the worst kind of isolation: in space, trapped with other people, for years. What we have now is not as bad.

 Then I made a nice dinner. I've latched on to Tesco's Lamb Steaks. It's leg of lamb in steak form. You just put it under a hot grill for 3-4 mins on each side and it's DELISH. This time around, I made the lamb cumin-y and salt-y and the beans garlic-y and ginger-y with the roast potatoes. It was YUM-o-la.

Now I'm seven minutes late for Boris. Wondering why there aren't any date labels on The Plan's x-axis. "It all depends on a series of "big IFs". I was only half watching because I was writing this but it didn't sound very clear or good. As the lady on Avenue 5 said:

"Fact check: How long do dictatorships last after the first bout of chanting?"

Here are the cats and the new chair cover:

The Hubby The Friend

Christ. Day 50. Look what I've become!