Lockdown: That touch of cilantro with onion and tomato

There’s a chance some of this will repeat or even contradict what I wrote about Monday, because the days have blurred together and i’m not sure where one began and the previous ended.

I had a bowl of raisin bran and stumbled bedward. Got up in time for the (now twice-weekly instead of daily) department Zoom meeting. It went well. I did a few email and made lunch: the broccoli-kale-chicken rice with the rest of the canned corned beef hash and a couple of fried eggs. So bad. But you know the rest.

Went back to bed. Forced myself up in time for the national news and the second local newscast. Then back to bed but I’m not sure if I slept or not. Mostly lazed, I think? Around 11 in the evening I got up to have return some texts, and realizing I didn’t have anything I had to get done before work Wednesday, I had a me-evening. Ate tortilla chips in place of a real dinner, with fresh salsa, while watching the DVD of That Touch of Mink I queued up from Netflix after catching the last thirty minutes a couple of weeks ago. A week ago? Who knows?

It’s a silly movie but genuinely funny. Clever. I was surprised, and mostly enjoyed it, although at 100 minutes, it’s ten minutes longer than my attention span likes anymore.

Overdid it on tortilla chips. Feel a little sick now.

Cleaned up a little, brushed my teeth, goofed around on my phone, and now I’m writing this and hoping to get to sleep by 3:30.

It feels like there weren’t a lot of text messages, but evidence says otherwise. Sharon and I texted about some pretty heavy work stuff. Sylvia texted me from the office to ask about the flour and yeast I left her. Hoku, a former student from my favorite homeroom at Assets, sent me a funny sign he saw on social media (“Wet Piant”). Stacia from work answered my work-related text from the night before. The writing partner texted to tell me she submitted the two stories. Good news.

Crush Girl texted to ask how my day went. This led to a lot of conversation about various stuff. Probably the highlight of a rough day.

Didn’t go for a walk. Considered it, seriously, but opted for the movie instead.

And now is the time when all good men must come to the comfort of their beds. I need to try and get at least five good hours. My brain is oatmeal.

Send me a text or reach out here for contact info if you need some connection. We all need it; I’m convinced.

Ozzy Osbourne’s Ozzmosis (1995) is his worst, by far, of the solo albums up to this one. More about it later, but I think I’m on the seventh or eighth spin. Trying to be fair to it and see if it grows on me. I don’t hate it as much as midway through the first spin, but yeesh. Not Ozzy’s best Ozzy.

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