Lockdown: Ministers of manipulation

Now the President, he’s in the backyard playing croquet
But where I live is a different time and place
He’s gonna tell you with his hands and his words
That things are okay
Tell it to you all day long until you’re blue in the face

Did I say it’s a million years ’til January 20? Make that a billion.

After not nearly enough sleep Tuesday night, I woke up super tired Wednesday morning, the sixth of January, about as late as I can get away with and still present as interested in continuing my employment at the foundation.

Checked Twitter before I got up, as I always do, to see if the so-and-so-in-chief has blown up the world yet. I’m not joking. I’ve privately responded to people who’ve texted me over the past four years to say I was still in bed, checking to see if the incumbent has blown up the world.

With two weeks to go before inauguration day, it looked like he came pretty darn close. I couldn’t quite get my brain around what was happening based on my Twitter stream, so I stumbled to the desk, fired up the laptop, flicked on the TV, and holy freaking cow.

I won’t go into it all. My experience was pretty close to everyone else’s. My first thought, on seeing all those people climbing up the Capitol walls and banging on the doors, was it looked like a Central American despotic showdown between the people and their government.

The nation’s capitol.

I had work to do and a 10:30 phone meeting with the boss, but I kept the TV on and got through emails, then updated my running to-do list. My boss and I chatted about a few things after my update, and I mentioned I was moving a little slowly because I had the TV on. She totally understood.

I wasn’t my most productive, but I did get some social media stuff done, had a phone call with one of my favorite development officers, and got to work laying out a proposal we’ve been working on together for about a month. I didn’t actually write most of this one, but I was involved in the editing process from the beginning, so it felt good finally to lay it down on the template and think about photos, alignment, headers, and other things they pay me to be good at.

I didn’t get nearly enough done in order to make my Thursday morning target. I think the world will forgive me.

I left the TV on most of the day and evening, most of the time on mute. Between actual news, the talking heads still have to fill time, and most of the fill isn’t that interesting to me. Give me news with minimal commentary, please. It helps that I had it on ABC and they had Martha Raddatz on the Capitol grounds, and she’s among the very best.

After work I did a bit of writing. Wednesday is the designated day for the NaNoWriMo group Skype to check in. I knew when we established it that it would die pretty quickly, and it has, with only three of us who already knew each other from past NaNos checking in. I’m fine with it. They’ve become friends over the years.

We talked about writing-related New Year’s resolutions. I’ve got mine, but I’ll write about them later.

Read my novel a little and fell asleep before putting myself properly to bed. Miserable.

Breakfast-slash-lunch was the other entree I picked up from Ricado’s. Chicken piccata. It was amazing. I only messed around with ravioli the night before because I once tried a ravioli special there, a very long time ago, and really liked it. This, the regular ravioli, was still very good, but it can’t compare to my favorites. Ricado’s packed my order with two mini loaves of fresh bread. I ate a whole one with the ravioli. I ate most of the other with the piccata. So good.

Events of the day called for more pasta, so for a very late dinner, I made some penne with jarred red sauce. I added red pepper flakes, dried garlic flakes, brown sugar, gin, blue cheese, and one other thing I can’t remember. It was good. Gin was a great idea, much better than tequila.

I definitely had a slice of caramel apple pie for a snack but I don’t remember when. Not ruling out before breakfast.

Crush Girl texted me about a certain mispronunciation she heard that cracks us both up. We texted later about our stimulus checks (I got mine directly deposited New Year’s Eve). Later, I told her my writing hasn’t been as good these past few days because I broke my favorite shot glass. She was appropriately sympathetic.

JB texted me, but I don’t know if I can say what it was about. I texted Crissy to say I’d read about Jon Sciambi getting the Cubs play-by-play job, so I would probably be listening to a ton of Cubs games this season, if there is a this season. Then I followed up when I realized it was for the TV gig, not the radio gig, which bums me out because the service I subscribe to is for all the MLB radio feeds. Too bad. Sciambi is one of the best.

Penny texted to thank me for the Christmas gift. She was welcome, of course.

That’s it, and that’s enough. Leave a comment if you want to connect. Don’t go through pandemic-insurrection days alone. I’m here for you if you need someone to text with.

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