Variety Pages: March 29, 2020

The State of Chaos

I like order. Routines, schedules, and knowing what comes next are staples in my world, and I generally resent anything/anyone that gets in the way of those things.

As you might imagine, my brain is struggling to keep up with the near-daily changes and drama we’ve been thrust into with this whole pandemic thing. Schedules are changing constantly, rules for even simple things like grocery shopping are changing and often different from store to store (which is really, really disorienting and stressful), I can’t get a haircut because the salons are closed, and work is in a constant state of flux.

Add to that so many things that need to be handled by phone now (I hate talking on the phone) or by video meeting (still do not get the whole video thing – why isn’t audio enough?!), which I’m pretty sure is just for everyone to convince everyone else that they really are working from home, and not just slacking off (pro-tip: if your job is getting done, no one will question whether you’re working or not).

I am not working from home (and won’t unless they force me), but there are challenges inherant to that as well, and the daily rush of trying to get as much done as possible before they actually do kick me out and I have to deal with dogs and neighbor kids and even more phone conversations I don’t want to have during the average work day.

Yes, I am grateful to have a job I won’t lose, and to still be drawing a paycheck…but I still reserve the right to complain. Because sometimes complaining is the only way to de-pressurize the stress.

Hopefully the world will settle into a “new normal” soon, and sometime after that, maybe I’ll feel comfortable establishing some new routines again. But for now, I need to take what’s thrown my way as calmly as possible, and do my best to muddle through, hoping that my diminished mental capacity due to having to constantly adjust and do things differently day after day after day doesn’t impair my abilities to much.

I love less traffic, less people all over, and stepping out my back door at night to peace and quiet, rather than the constant hum/roar of traffic and noise. I love getting personal space without asking for it most of the time.

Everything else is driving me insane.

Puppy Pic(s) of the Week

Excerpt of the Week

The Pact

Michelle sat on the old, cold stone steps of the abandoned building, arms propped on her knees, head down, stringy blond blond hair covering her face. A black beanie hugged her head, damp from the rain.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there. Hours, certainly. This was the address she’d been given and she couldn’t leave. Not yet.

There was a big clock tower in the center of town. It was old and simple, made of rough hewn stone blocks, with big copper bells that tolled on the hour, as they were doing now. Two pm.

She lifted her head and looked at the chipped address tiles again. Twenty-two hundred Barnaby Street. Just as her note had said. It had been 10 years since they’d made the pact. He probably wouldn’t even remember, but she didn’t have anywhere else to be, and this…well, this could be her chance. Maybe the only one she’d ever get.

If he showed up.