R&R

I had a bout of food poisoning this week, and I feel like I’m still recovering, so I’m going to take it easy this week-end. On the worst day, I was basically in bed, asleep, for most of the day, except when I got up to have meals, and go to the bathroom, shower, etc. 

Today I’m feeling much better than that, but I think it’s best to not move more than I have to. Unfortunately, housework is unavoidable, and maybe a bit of gardening won’t hurt, but there’ll be nothing more adventurous than that.

Oh, except saving the galaxy.

Not literally (unless you can count, in some roundabout way, my reduction in activity having some kind of reduced impact on the environment, which results in some kind of ripple effect that could, in combination with the inactivity of other recluses, somehow contribute to the salvation of the galaxy. But I don’t think that would really be “saving” it — only minutely slowing the downward spiral)

Umm, anyway, not literally, just virtually in a game called Mass Effect.

The game is like a lesson in history and astronomy, as well as diplomacy, cartography, languages and problem solving. Not to mention the coordination required to drive the “Mako”.

Yes, I know I said I was going to take it easy, but despite all the cognitive processing required to play this game, it is a lot of fun (or perhaps it is precisely because of all the thinking involved).

Anyway, much to do (or not do), so I won’t linger here any longer. 

near miss

I very nearly didn’t get a blog post done for this week. I did think about letting this one slip by. After all, there’s nothing forcing me to continue this post-per-week thing.

But I just couldn’t. I’m not sure what it is — Pride? Stubbornness? Fear? Why can’t I just let this go? If there is one week in many that I don’t feel like writing, or forget to blog, surely there is no terrible ripple effect on the universe, right?

Anyway, it’s less than two hours before Sunday ticks over to Monday, the start of another week. I’ve made it before the deadline yet again.

Hopefully next week-end will be less busy, and more full of writing inspiration. Or, who knows, maybe next week will be the week I give the whole thing a miss.

a habit unmasked

I’ve come to realise that it was a lot easier to get used to wearing masks again than it was to get used to not wearing masks. The last time my city went into lockdown, it was mandatory to wear masks in hospitals and medical centres, as well as in workplaces where it was not possible to “social distance”. Having been through this before, it was easy enough to go back to that routine.

Once the lockdown was over, masks were no longer mandatory. Hardly anyone wore them anymore, but it felt so weird to walk into the building at work not wearing one. I’d approach the glass sliding doors in the morning, and the thought would occur to me that I didn’t have a mask on, and my hand would automatically move to my bag where my mask was kept, and … hold on, is the lockdown really over?

I had to glance around me at other people also not wearing masks to reassure myself that I wasn’t breaking any laws by not wearing a mask. 

I just think it’s strange how I got used to it so quickly, and then going back to what I’d been doing for the vast majority of my working life was harder. Such are the times, I guess.

looking back

Sometimes when I drive somewhere, and I’m stopped at a red light, I look in the rear-view mirror at the people in the car behind me. Most people are very “normal” with blank expressions, sitting still, just waiting to keep driving; but sometimes they’re a bit more animated, and it can be amusing to watch, even just briefly.

I’ve seen one man swaying side to side, as if dancing, while his passengers sat motionless. I’ve seen people fidget and bite their nails and play with their hair. I’ve seen one-sided conversations, silent couples, and people who don’t seem to stop talking.

I’ve even seen a crying passenger (and a driver who was trying to console him). And then there was the couple who looked like they’d had an argument, and were decidedly not talking to each other.

I find it interesting how people can feel very protected in cars, like it’s a private room completely detached from the world around it. There’s something about being in a car with a close friend that just feels safe (which seems ironic considering how dangerous cars can be). It seems to be a good chance for meaningful conversations, particularly if you’re driving along a familiar route or a very long road where there’s not much to distract from the conversation.

When I look at these people, I wonder where they’re going, and what they’re doing. I wonder why the fidgeting people are so nervous, why the icy couple aren’t talking, why the passenger is crying.

I also sometimes wonder if the person in the car in front of me is peering back at me. Usually I give them a smile, so they can wonder what I’m smiling about.

raindrop sheep

Driving home from work in sub-pitter-patter rain that barely qualifies as rain, I glanced at my car dashboard. The fuel efficiency bothers me — I can’t get it down any lower. Mostly because of this traffic, not helped by the rain, as pitiful as it is.

I wonder, “why does this bother me so?”

I’m not driving far, I can afford the petrol, I don’t fill up that often anyway.

But it’s the perceived impact — the impact on a world that’s already dying. And yet, looking at all the cars around me, what difference does it really make?

My actions are a drop in the proverbial ocean — a piddly raindrop on the face of the earth. It’s the corporations that must change! It’s the governments that must enforce change!

Still, it’s not an excuse for inaction.

So what if I’m a raindrop?

Following the cars in front of me, I think how we’re all sheep. Raindrop sheep. 

(Sheep raindrops?)

But surely in a herd of sheep, you occasionally get one that breaks away from the group. Don’t you?