If you looked for a post yesterday, you are correct in noting there was not one here. I would say that yesterday was a bad day, but it was actually the day before, Wednesday, that rivaled Alexander's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. One thing after another, none of them major, but they did pile up.
I love my 20-some-year-old sewing machine (she is named Xena the Warrior Bernina) except when she decides to act up, which she did Wednesday afternoon. There is something unknown in the bobbin assembly that the husband has managed to jury-rig twice. He'll give it a go for the third time this weekend. I'd been quilting a quilt I started the quilting on maybe ten years ago. I decided that the way I was doing the quilting then was not going to look very good, so I folded the quilt and set it aside. Pandemics turn out to be great times to pull out unfinished projects, and I'd pulled this out. I still didn't like how I'd been laying out the quilting, but there was no way I was pulling it all out and starting over. It's a small quilt that will fit nicely over a chair somewhere. It's probably too nice to give to the family dog, but that too is a possibility.
During the late afternoon we had one of our summer thunderstorms, this one featuring the closest ever lightening strike. The lightening and thunder occurred simultaneously and must have been right overhead. The rain was nothing short of torrential. Afterwards, thanks to a call on my cell phone from older son, we realized that the land line phone was posting a "no line" message. No phone line means no DSL internet. The husband finally got a real person at the phone company, and set up a repair visit for today. He decided, though, to try to figure out what was wrong just in case the needed fix was inside the house. Outside repairs are free; inside repairs cost big bucks. As he was going from thing to thing, I at one point tried to tell him something. I got irked because he appeared to be discounting my effort to help out, so I was cleaning off the dinner table in a not-so-good frame of mind. I knocked my wine glass over and in trying to stop at least some of it from hitting the floor, managed to impale my right palm on a shard of glass sticking straight up. Not a good evening from any angle except that the husband did figure out a likely cause for the outage.
We survived yesterday thanks to smart phones, though the husband did go to older son's house to send a long email without having to type it on a teeny phone keyboard. The repairman came fairly early this morning. The husband's diagnosis was correct, and the fix took minutes. Life has been good again. The husband will get to Xena this weekend, and my palm is fine as long as I don't directly knock where the cut is. Life is good.
And beyond the doors of the Hermitage, cases of covid-19 from the novel coronavirus have risen in over 20 states since they began to reopen. I have yet to see anything definite regarding virus spread from the recent protests, but that's probably coming any day now. I just read online that the governor of Oregon is putting reopening on hold due to a rise in covid-19 cases. She's not moving the state or any part of it back; they just won't be going forward for a while.
And then there is the continuing fallout from the protests in a political sense. He Who Shall Not Be Named is going back on the campaign trail, starting with a rally in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on Juneteenth. Perhaps his assistants are scared to tell him about the Tulsa massacre; they're evidently still looking for some of the mass graves that resulted from it. Beyond that, remember the virus that was magically going to disappear? You won't be able to get into the campaign rally without signing a waiver. You get exposed to the virus at the rally? How sad? Too bad! And the military leadership has noted that they're okay with renaming forts or installations named after Confederate figures. He Who Shall Not Be Named says that will destroy a heritage of which we should be proud. I used to see bumper stickers showing the Confederate flag with the words "Heritage Not Hate." I haven't seen one recently, but I'm sure they're still out there.
So much is happening on so many fronts that it is hard to synthesize it all and make sense of it. I feel a need to rely on the media to do much of that for me, which is a bad way to feel. Pondering it all on my own weighs on me. I find myself playing solitaire on the laptop or phone, an activity that I know from past experience is related to my depression. The pandemic alone was burdensome enough; the protests added to it is overwhelming. It's too early to start making dinner, which will be leftovers; I think I'll go knit or read, either of which should take some of my mind of some of the things.
2 comments:
I reached the stage where I couldn't take any more about ten days ago. It was all just too much to cope with and the weather chose its moment to turn grey and wet which always lowers my mood. You do whatever you need to do to get you through the day, it won't always be like this.
I did some dusting today so I must be starting to feel better, it's a pointless chore but I feel better once it's done.
I hope your hand heals quickly. I still have a scar on the heel of my hand from a fall on sharp rocks (not glass; it felt like it but was dirtier so cleaning it was a painful chore).
As for: he appeared to be discounting my effort to help out, I wonder how many marriages have this problem. I get irked several times a week when Glen has a solution to something that comes up and refuses to even listen to an alternate plan (because it doesn't come from his own brain). Hugs to you!
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