yak farming
THE BLOG IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE
Hello from indoors! Where I have been for…four days? Five days? It all blurs together. You would think I’d enjoy 24/7 sweatpants and bralessness and not taking public transportation to a soulless office building, but it turns out I am a little crabby about having no choice in the matter. Well not about the bralessness. Nothing to be crabby about with that. But right now I am missing (not in order):
- gym workouts (I do a little stretching or bicep curls here and there, but I don’t work nearly as hard as I do in the gym)
- people-watching on the El
- my office chair
- lipstick (yes, I could wear it at home but: why)
- Drinking in bars
It is a big enough house that LT and I (and Aaron) can have separate work zones, although we do hear each other’s conference calls. And I hear the exasperated sighing he makes while he works and he hears the little profane exclamations I tend to make when I work. No one is mad about any of it. Yet.
All of the college visits we lined up for spring break are canceled. I guess spring break is in essence canceled, if you think about it. School is no more, and when will they go back? WHO KNOWS. Will the kids take the SAT on time? MAYBE. PREP ON YOUR OWN. Teachers are giving out assignments and Aaron is doing them, but of course it does not fill up the days. This week can be as slack as it needs to be, though. We all need to adjust and get the hang of this, so, son: play your shooty games in between spurts of chemistry and trigonometry. I do not care.
JUST NEED TO GET THIS OUT
I do not deal much with political news and opinion. I vote. I stay informed at a very basic level thanks to helpful news-digest emails, NPR’s Up First podcast, and (god help me but it’s true) Twitter and Reddit. But I do not want to watch debates or talk about politics beyond maybe a “what the FUCK” over beers. This is partially because it is very boring to me and partially to save my brain from Doomsville.
The 2016 election was bad, of course. For some reason I had gone to a bar to watch returns (and I NEVER do things like that) and ended up with bartender-purchased tequila shots and, later, weeping in an Uber. But at some point after that, as a constant stream of putrid and despicable nonsense spilled out of the president, and as we got close to another presidential election, people seemed filled with a righteous We Will Defeat This Motherfucker energy. Being my sideline self, I was not a huge part of that—other than spitefully donating to pro-choice and refugee-rights causes every time I got mad—but it felt sort of good. Get Trump out. Have a nice election night this time. Even if it’s not a candidate we’re thrilled about: at least the short-fingered vulgarian would be gone.
I no longer have any of that energy and believe that the Democrats will absolutely fail and there will be four more years of batshittery. I hope to be wrong but fear I am not. And now I just hope Trump dies. Just dies. Just straight up strokes out. An iron fist squeezing all the foul-smelling juice out of the mildewed Nerf ball he has for a brain. Rolled out of the White House on a gurney with 24/7 “grave condition” news updates until they turn off the machines. Melania can have some wicked-boring funeral couture, there can be a riderless horse or a coffin decorated with flags and eagles or whatever these tacky bastards want, and I will not be a ghoul and literally dance in the streets but I will raise my High Life and smile.
This is wrong and I know it is. You can tell me I am going to hell for wanting this, or just inviting a bad energy into my mind (I do not believe the first thing but sort of do believe the second thing, limp and lame as it sounds), but sorry. It cannot be helped.
WOW THAT GOT DARK
—mimi “wow that got dark” smartypants