I am “working” my Monday morning shift at Lighthouse writer’s workshop. I have the garage door open for what might be one of the last springs days. The construction crew is having as much fun dropping huge hunks of steel into their dumpster from crane height as I am with the laminator. It smell like sparks.
The doors to the safe houses have been breached. Missiles whistle. It smells like fresh rubble.
The necklace that I bought from Target keeps getting tangled. It was 14.99 but because it was three strands I like to think each necklace was less than $5.00. Because math. I wore it the other day and those three strands twisted themselves into chaos that felt as though it was choking me. I took the bold step of cutting off the one that I thought was the worst offender. Increasing the cost of the remaining two necklaces to less than $7.50. Which is probably too much. I have done zero headbanging motions and the two strands have once again twisted. I will be doing surgery later today. Thus the remaining strand will not get twisted into itself. I hope. It will then cost $14.99. Which is definitely too much.
Her face is blurred but the video is still posted as they tear the necklace from her slumped body.
I am pretty excited to be using a laminator. As I type this it is heating up across the room. It smells like the time my Barbie Doll’s hair caught on fire. It took me two tries to write “notes from volunteers” because my spacing was incorrect and volunteers crept over the edge of the paper.
The guy on the corner has a new sign. It reads “HALP.”
One of the six all gender bathroom stalls is out of toilet paper. Lighthouse stores its toilet paper on the second floor. I have to walk up to get it to restock and then back down. When I wash my hands I splash my sleeve again. I don’t seem to be able to keep my sleeves dry.
The public school only has boys and girls bathrooms. The doors are torn from the stalls. She doesn’t drink water so she doesn’t have to pee all day.
I cannot get the stack of free books for the “Big Read” straight. It seems within my capabilities…but it is not.
The stack of banned books contains lots of stories that aren’t straight. Most of the books are banned to promote ignorance and hate. Some are banned for absurd reasons. Such as Shel Silverstein’s “A Light in Attic” (without which I never would have been able to triumphantly take the stage in middles school reciting half the book by memory) because “How Not to Have to Dry the Dishes,” would “encourage children to break dishes, so they won’t have to dry them.”
I just had a nice chat with a highly decorated officer from Comcast Business who wants to “button up the phone systems” here at The Lighthouse. At first I was excited. Any visit from Comcast is something someone has been waiting for…perhaps for a very very long time. Then I realized…this was a sales call.
She only has email. So we email back and forth to set up a time to help her with her essay. She misses our appointment because she has to stay home with her sick sister. I don’t hear about it until later because they don’t have a computer at home. “Please don’t give up on me” she writes. She is the first person in her family to apply to college…but she has so many missed days that she is already off track to graduate.
Once again I can’t get my Mounjaro. I have called 7 pharmacies. The people I talk to at CVS say they can’t check the other CVSs. I want to tell them to cut the crap but I need them to help me. “Yeah, backorder no idea when it will be in.” I can hear the shrug through the phone line. I keep calling. I ask the woman at the local pharmacy who seems to be annoyed with the frequency of my calls if she would be willing to let me know when some comes in. “No.”
There are more than 300 drugs listed on the FDA shortage list. The most common? Chemotherapy drugs.
I have a kid at college. Last night we had to FaceTime to play Euchre. It’s so much better when we are all together. Plus the kids Euchred Steve and I twice. Once because Steve will ALWAYS pick up the Bower if it is served to him. Even if he only has one other Trump. I have filed for a Euchre divorce. And if that sounds extreme it is not. It is infuriating to play with him. If none of that made sense to you just know that Steve makes very poor choices and I, a perfect card partner, have to suffer the consequences
He watched his wife and two daughters (5 and 3) get loaded into the back of a Hamas truck. He tracked her phone to Gaza. He saw video of them on Xitter getting unloaded. They may never play cards again.
My to do list:
Close Garage Door
Cut off necklace strand
Turn off Laminator
Bring a roll of TP downstairs
Stack books
Hand business card to building manager
Call CVS
Deliver Steve’s Euchre divorce papers.
Their to do list:
Stay alive.
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It's always hard when we draw the contrast with our lives and the lives of people in catastrophic personal or political situations.So we let that contrast in only rarely and for just a moment or two.If the thought doesn't lead to some good action, it is a recipe for helplessness.
That guy stuck to my heart. He was in shock, yet fully aware of the possibilities, the things he must be going through. Can anything be as bad as what is in his head? The cruelty is what they were after. And the got got it and gave it. A whole lot of things do not make sense right now......