I have the dearest little bunner-rabbo just to my right. I wish I could just snap and magically nsert a first-person perspective movie of gazing over at him as his tiny rumpled self sinks deeper into the bed and begins to conk out again. (Coming up to the front room - the bun parlour - and clacking on the mechanical keyboard is such an interruption, but he survives.)
I don't actually have anything to say. I was reading a crochet blog - actually just clicking a search engine result to get an answer to something, but I somehow ended up looking at more recent posts, and it turned out that this blogger had passed away, and then as I read back from the end, I realised that this blogger designed a blanket that I had previously admired on Ravelry, and so that was sad.
I'm already in a slightly morbid mood today as I had to leave work this morning because I was lightheaded and had some head pressure. Maybe it's just the rain and coming spring, but I had some blurry vision last night, and all together it bothered me. Mike got someone to cover his own class in order to drive me to the doctor... who no longer existed. Oh, that's right, the office moved... and they were booked up for the day. "Let's just go to the walk-in place" (the one right around the corner from our school, bringing our journey full circle)... and like all sensible medical establishments, they don't allow walk-ins in this time of COVID.
Oh, yeah, the pandemic. Mike and I are seemingly the only people we know in our patch of Australia who practice physical distancing. Last week Mike's mother up in Perth was called a "loonie" by someone who joined the argument she was having at the grocery store with the person who stood close to her. Mike and I were at the big shopping centre in Mandurah a few weeks ago, obeying all of the prominent signage of the time/age, but everyone else was business as usual. I said something about this to Mike as yet another person walked inches in front of us despite ample space all around: "Some people really don't know how to social distance." The man replied as he kept walking, "Stay out of the way, then."
So, we remain very lucky in WA to be nearly the same as we ever were, but if we do get a community transmission case, I don't like our chances. The complacency is like another universe, one far, far away from the "new normal" of masks and whatnot everywhere else.
The third doctor's office didn't have any toys or magazines out because of COVID, but what they did have was a former student of Mike's working the reception desk who squeezed me in. I have bloodwork and a CT scan coming, oh boy. Of course I feel better now. The tricky thing with teachers is that we have that middle-layer of being unwell where we are walking and talking okay, suitable for slow desk work, but we're in no shape to manage the circus and put on the show. I'm going to be annoyed with myself if this is just allergies and eyestrain, but then I can hardly wish for the alternative.
The mopping robot just started out of the blue. Is this the promised machine uprising? Or is Mike sitting in period 6 doing housework via his phone? I better go have a look because I know the rug needs rolling up.
Er, I certainly didn't mean to come on here and talk about deceased bloggers and then throw out some concerning medical facts about myself because you know what's going to happen next: it'll be another 2-10 months before I write anything here again. "Oh, what is Shari going as for Halloween?" "Schroedinger's Cat, apparently."
(So it's a good thing you didn't see the mopey playlist going while I was crocheting a bit ago. CROCHETING. The thing I keep not talking about. CROCHET. Put it on the list for next time. The top of the list. Let is sit even higher than my growing pyramid of yarn.)
(Yes, there will be a next time. I'm okay!)
(And even if I'm not, I will be.)
(And if I won't be, in the words of the father in Big Fish, "This is not how I go.")
(I really better check on that robot, though.)
