Weekend Plans Post: Smack Dab In The Middle Of February
When winter comes at the end of December, it’s usually pretty lovely. Those big fluffy snowflakes, digging out the really *HEAVY* blankets from the back of the closet (you know, the ones that feel like weighted anxiety blankets but, no, they’re just that thick and heavy), and the hoodies and fuzzies and slippers.
The winter that is smack dab in the middle of February is just crappy. The snowflakes are no longer big and fluffy but small like grains of icicle. The heavy blankets are still nice, but instead of being a nice change, they’re necessary to get a decent rest, and the hoodies and fuzzies and slippers feel different when you’ve been wearing them for a year because of the lockdown.
I also know that I am very lucky, because I live in a house that has power and heat and water and if I get chilly in the basement, I can switch from the medium fuzzy pants to the HEAVY fuzzy pants and I’m good.
But we are no longer in the “oh, I’ve missed winter… I love winter…” part of winter. We’re in the “ugh, winter sucks” part of winter.
There are some consolations. Deep fried foods delivered from the deli along with the groceries. Um… in years past, we’d also occasionally have “snow days” but we can’t pull that trick anymore.
The computer is already in the basement, the work still has to get done, and I have no excuses. So even the consolations of bad weather have disappeared.
At least we’re halfway through. Soon it will be Spring.
Until then… well, this weekend will be a drive past and yell “HELLO!” at the quarterly family get-together where birthdays are celebrated and gifts are dropped off. We will be showing up, hanging a bag of Amazon cards on the door, and waving to people inside before scuttling back home. Along with, you know, the usual weekendy chores… sorting delivered groceries appropriately, cooking food for the coming week, and laundry. Sweet, sweet laundry.
So… what’s on your docket?
(Featured image is “«The water is too cold!»” by Tambako the Jaguar and is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0)
A couple of months ago, I had a dream I went back to the restaurant and helped out during a particularly bad rush period. It was some weird amalgam between the restaurant in 1994, the restaurant in 1996, and the restaurant now. (In none of these restaurants was there a room off to the left with the silver prep tables, though.)
Anyway, it was a dream. Easily dreamed, easily forgotten. Not even worth mentioning.
Last night I had a dream where I wandered back to the restaurant to have a meal. The boss came from the back and asked me if I remembered working a couple of months ago and if I remembered one of the problems we had. Yeah, I did… and he said that the way we solved the problem resulted in an apparent problem with the till, so he wasn’t allowed to do the nightly count anymore. I was appropriately horrified and got my meal to go after hammering out that, no, nothing was missing. It’s just that we solved a problem without documenting it appropriately.
Anyway, stuff like that makes me sympathetic to stories of our ancestors seeing some weird reality being tapped into during dreamtime. (Beyond the reality that exists in the mind’s processing itself, I mean.)Report
“It’s just that we solved a problem without documenting it appropriately.”
Dude. This is totally a work dream.Report
We may head up to Springs to get some beer from Cerberus Brewery. Also, we’ll try to get a game or two in. Maybe play Canvas again or The Whatnot Cabinet. And of course, I have some grading and posting that I’ll do on Sunday.Report
Back in December I thought it would be helpful to caution the family that while things are looking up, February/March will probably be tough months in-between pandemic lockdowns and winter lockdowns/blahs.
And while correct, I can report that the advanced cautioning was not in fact helpful. We’ve no choice but to double to rations of grog.Report
Digging out.
This whole week, classes were cancelled. EVERYTHING was cancelled. I live on the northern edge of the Snowpocalypse that hit Texas and Oklahoma and Arkansas.
This week was a blur. Am beginning to wonder if maybe my furnace is emitting carbon monoxide (I have a detector that is fairly new, and it has not gone off, but)
JUST today did I get back out to the grocery. Couldn’t get everything, had to take a different brand and fat-level of milk than what I prefer because the shelves were stripped. I was one of the lucky ones though: power and heat stayed on, and I left taps dripping just in case so my pipes did not freeze (neighbors across the street apparently were not so lucky; I saw someone boogie out of the house the other day and open the water meter and quick turn off the water to the house)
I’m glad it got it out of its system this week though; next weekend (the 27th) is my birthday and as I am 2 weeks out from my first dose of the Pfizer shot, I think it’s safe for me to mask up and do a little unnecessary shopping.
Tomorrow it’s supposed to actually get into the 40s.Report
Currently spinning the new Django Django record I picked up on the bike ride home. The treacherous bike ride, I might add. Chicago’s neglect of its bike infrastructure is criminal.
Saturday is going to be digging out from the snow storm of earlier this week. Also, serving some prime rib to some friends, and maybe have a drink or three.
Sunday, who knows?Report
My wife and I are eligible for the vaccine in Colorado. I plan on spending Saturday morning sitting on hold with Kaiser for three hours until I can get a person who can answer the questions, “Where are we in the virtual line?” and “When will we get to the front of the line?” I so much want to donate blood again and get two-three inches of hair cut off. If their answer is three weeks, I’ll probably wait. Three months, and I may take my chances.Report
Going to the pharmacist today, I asked (as I always do) “got any shots that’ll have to be thrown away if they don’t go into somebody’s arm?”
Today was the first time that he said “when were you born?” instead of “no, sorry”.
So I told him that a lot of bad things happened when I was fighting in Korea and I came home and only got settled down when Kennedy got shot.
He looked at me and told me that I didn’t look like I was 72 and I told him “Good clean living!”
Anyway, it turns out that ’72 was my birthyear.
So I didn’t get the shot.
*BUT*.
He did tell me that he had one extra shot that he could give someone in either group 1A or 1B, and he’d never had an extra shot before.
So… good luck to all of us, I guess.Report
LOL back in 2019 when I went in for my flu shot, the 18 year old behind the pharmacy counter asked when I was born, and I said 1969 and he said “Oh, you need to get the special stronger shot, we might be out of those” and I was like “I AM ONLY FIFTY”
the pharmacist knew what he was doing, at least, and I got the correct shot.
I lucked into an early covid shot because of bad weather preventing people traveling from the bigger cities north of us here to get theirs. I kind of feel like “neener neener” for them – I was under the impression you had to register in the county where you lived, not just troll everywhere you can thing of to try to grab a shotReport