Lockdown: Edible (and nonedible) rangements

I’m having difficulty lately remembering the duration and quality of my sleep, which is a little weird. I’m kind of obsessed with it, as it is the defining problem in my life for a long time. I mean from my perspective. From others’, it’s a range of faults beginning with arrogance, continuing through naivete, and ending with vanity.

I couldn’t think of W, X, Y, or Z faults, but ask R, Mochi Girl, Crush Girl, or any of my former employers and I’m sure they’d be glad to complete the alphabet and perhaps take a second lap.

So I’m sure I slept Monday night, eventually, and I’m reasonably sure it wasn’t very good and I’m fairly certain it wasn’t enough, but that’s just based on recent history. Saturday night, the night I spent nine hours in bed to get seven hours of good sleep, was surely the fluke.

I worked on my UH Hilo story (not the one that was slaying me a couple of weeks ago; a new one I’m not having too much difficulty with), corresponded with a donor about sharing his story with our readers, proofed our print magazine (which I may be assembling and laying out this summer, depending), put together the shorter version of that other UH Hilo story, and pretty much got stuff done. Except writing the UH Hilo story, which I hoped to finish my first draft of.

I had coverage of the impeachment trial on my TV, muted during commentary but unmuted during presentation.

I took an early lunch break to pick up prescription refills at Kaiser in Mapunapuna. I meant to bring all my water jugs for refilling at 99 Ranch, but I’d forgotten to give them the bleach rinse I think they’re due for, so I only took four jugs, unrinsed. I’ll prep the rest of them before the weekend and hopefully get them all refilled then.

While I was down there, I had breakfast-slash-lunch of shoyu chicken from Flamingo. It’s directly across the food court from that burger place, and I kept glancing over my shoulder to see if the people there could see I took my appetite elsewhere.

Ate the chicken on the trunk of my car. Flamingo’s food ranges (again with the ranges) from not good to not bad, but it’s difficult to mess up shoyu chicken, and these were some meaty thighs. It was a nice, simple, filling meal.

After work, I took a nap and scrolled through news on my phone.

For dinner, I took that hebi steak to the grill pan. It was pretty fishy-smelling, ‘though it had a few days left on the shelf date. I used salt, pepper, and just a light dash of the Mitchell Street seasoning. I like the seasoning; I’m just trying to find its sweet spot.

Cooked it on medium to get it cooked all the way through; I didn’t really want to mess with it the way it smelled. Ate it with some fresh hapa rice, and it was decent. Next time I get a fish like that, I’m going to bread it and deep fry it, or maybe try it in the kimchi stew.

I tried to get to bed early, since I planned to do the laundry early Wednesday, but I took too long winding down and didn’t get to sleep until about 10. Argh.

I listened mostly to the new Foo Fighters album on repeat through the day. It’s really growing on me.

Cindy texted the Cindy-Suzanne-Julie group text about this book she just finished, which led to a little discussion about some Asian American lit we’ve been reading. Julie, being in Rhode Island, was probably in bed, but she joined in later. I think that’s it for texts Tuesday.

Other food I ate: dried apricots, two pieces of ohagi, and a couple of handfuls of wasabi peas. Forgot to have clementines, so I didn’t take in as much potassium as has been my goal.

La la la la la reach out la la la if you la la la la la need someone to connect with la la la in these la la la la dark twisted demented lalalalalalala laaaaaaa pandemic days.

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