Today was the big snow day they were warning us about all week. I awoke to find a couple of inches on the ground, but no more was falling, and it would all be melted by the end of the day. Maybe next snowstorm I'll record my Christmas song (I still can't sing due to sickness, but then, you could say that that never stopped me before).
I took my nephew out to Del Taco today, since his quarantine is now over (he goes back to school on Monday, while his little brother, who has exhibited no symptoms, can't go back until the New Year), and he said he couldn't taste anything. They had been allowing people to sit outdoors, as cold as that has been (my cousin and I braved some pretty cold afternoons to have some semblance of normalcy), but there was snow over all the chairs out there, so we had to eat in the car.
My nephew turned thirteen last week. Soon, he'll be bigger than me. I gave the boy a sip of my drink and he said it tasted no different than the complimentary water he was given. I am fortunate that it's only my sense of smell that disappeared completely (although I did sniff my deodorant top this morning and thought I smelled something, though that could have been my sense memory talking).
He said, "What would you do if your sense of smell NEVER came back?" And I thought about it. Smell is probably my least-valued sense, and while it would be sad to never be able to smell what's-her-name's hair again or know when it was time to wash my jogging sweatshirt, I would be alright. Never regaining my sense of taste would be helpful in dieting, that's for sure.
Got a headache again today. No big deal--my niece's boyfriend got a positive COVID test the other day and is feeling deathly ill this weekend, to the point where they're talking about hospitals. It's not fair that a decent, young, glasses-wearing guy with a girlfriend like that would have health problems, and a lazy, middle-aged, self-loathing do-nothing dude with no relationship skills like me would be fine.
I laid down for a few minutes this afternoon, hoping the headache would go away, and when I woke up, the sun was low in the sky . . . and only twenty minutes had passed. I was tempted just to keep lying there, but despite what I said about my own laziness, I just couldn't do it, not knowing it would be pitch black by five, and the library would be closing a few minutes after that. So I jetted over to the library as quickly as I could (too quickly, as the ice covering half my windshield only started to melt as I reached the light in front of the library), and here I am, on the quiet floor, with a few minutes to write . . .
. . . and now I have to pee. Darn it, just yesterday, I was watching the dude sit exactly where I am now, across from a blonde with oddly-tanned bare legs (yes, in December), then get up and walk away, leaving all his belongings in the safekeeping of a stranger from Santa Barbara.
But I have no one to watch my stuff. Should I--
Nope, I really have to pee, like, dangerously. I guess I'll do so.
I scurried off to hit the bathroom, taking my laptop and mouse with me, but leaving the cord and my coat (which had my car keys in them, so that might have been dumb . . . but it's the library, and the second floor at that. Not a tremendous criminal element, I'd wager).
Every table has this sign on it:
And yet, I see two people without their masks on right in front of me. I don't know that I get it--the skinny teen girl directly in front of me actually took her mask off and set it beside her table's sign. Maybe it was an eff-you to the restrictions, but I can't help but feel like it might be an eff-you to rules in general. After all, there are several people with coffee or water bottles at their desks, and even before the pandemic, food and drink was forbidden on the second floor (I'd never dared bring anything up here, and I've spent maybe fifty hours here).
Have I become my mother, in my later years?
Don't answer that. I do sometimes see my mom in my face in the morning as I look in the mirror and I get older. Of course, it could be worse: I could see your mom in the morning.
Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In December: 1144
Push-ups Today: 106
Push-ups In December: 621
The library closes in a few minutes, and I've managed two sentences of writing. There are four people sitting in front of me, and only one of them has a mask on. I really ought to stop watching people, as it's only making me crazy, like going to the mall and watching the teens congregate outside of H&M or Maurices.
The sun is now all but gone out the window, and I would like to sneak over there and get a picture, but it's just not possible on this side of the building. This was the best I could manage:
Dang, I really have to buckle down, and get some darn words in. Big Anklevich and I recorded another podcast last night, and afterward, I finished watching MANK on Netflix, but I fully intended to record two or three chapters of "A Sidekick's Errand," which would undoubtedly have given me a couple hundred words. Okay, I'll do that tonight. But still, to just sit here watching the other people in the library, creepily watching the girl whose job it is to spray down all the tables where people might have been studying, seems like a wasted opportunity.
Why not just put that on my headstone, though?
Words Today: 921
Words In December: 10,575
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