Wednesday, May 6, 2020

May 5, 2020

Even though the government is graciously allowing us to slowly recover our rights I'm still working in my basement. My cold basement. Sure, I could put in a heater but A) The room I'm in isn't small so I'll be paying to heat up a large space and B) the heat will just head upstairs after a cursory nod in my direction. So each day I put on a long sleeved flannel shirt over my t-shirt* and head into the darkness. I've got three bright lights on here, plus the one in the fishtank (hello fish, my constant companion) and I've situated my desk/folding table so that I'm facing the lone 8" X 24" window (hello outside, where I can see that it's sunny but deceptively so because I know it's only 45 degrees), but the former owner did this room in medium brown paneling so it's dark here no matter what. At least today it's 68.2 degrees. When I start work the heat is just kicking on so it's about 60 degrees. During April it peak at 66.6 degrees each day... not sure what that's all about.


As one who fights self-isolating and generally only needs a little socializing this totally blows. I'm not sure how extroverts aren't cracking up. My wife keeps tabs with her usual group of people (she would correct me if I called them her friends but they are at least close-ish contacts) and there are days when she's completely socialed out and needs copious amounts of alone time to recover. Me, not so much. I stink at keeping in touch with people**. And of course I only write these here blog posts when I'm down and need some therapeutic purging. Last week I was fine and dandy and actually waved my backside at "the law" by picking up Mike and driving 45 minutes to Bluffton to jam with Andy. And every Saturday I've been playing electric guitar in The Ridge's praise band. I really don't know how off I'd be without the praise band playing. I admit that I'm not very good at playing about any instrument (some more or less than others) but I enjoy it and I'm grateful that I'm allowed to play.


In other worlds, I'm building the worlds largest playhouse. About fifteen years ago I built one that was only 6' X 6' and my older kids (who are now almost exclusively old enough to drink) wished the could have spent the night in it. We had a small yard and I had to fit a swingset and a playhouse in there... what do ya do? So this time it's 8' X 12'. A shed, if you will. And to make matters worse I decided to put a barn-style room on it, which extends up 4' and makes the entire thing ten and a half feet tall. It's only about 6" taller than the neighbors shed so still I'm a bit concerned over what I've gotten myself into. I have one more wall to frame and then up they go! The roofing joists are assembled and the wall covering is mostly cut-out so it will look proper in no time. Did I mention that this thing has six windows? Yes, I'm cashing in some savings but hey, who needs to eat. I mean, really? Fasting is supposed to be good for the body and spirit and I'll surely find that out in about five years when we run out of savings.


I suppose I should get back to work. As soon as I find my misplaced gumption. I lost it about six years ago*** and find bits and pieces of it now and then but lately it seems to be hiding from me again. Perhaps it's under the couch.


* Yes, I wash them both. The T-shirt changes but the flannel does not. I will surely burn it after this governmental experiment is over.


** Thanks to Adam and Roger for your texts in the past six weeks. I wish I had interest in a hobby like board games and once I played a very enjoyable round of Zoo Keeper where you "grow" baby animals and once played Ticket To Ride but other than that my board playing experience is very bland. Oh, I have a HeroScapes set or two in the closet, just another attempt of trying to make a friend. Maybe one day Andrew and I will play that. Maybe that day is today. And Roger, if you read this, I got your group text and I meant to respond but yes, my flip phone doesn't handle group texts very well and one day because one week and now it's a matter of "Well, it's rather late to respond so I won't." That's why I stink at keeping in touch with people.


*** Burn-out is no laff-riot, kids.