On Friday late afternoon I was suddenly overcome with an urge to take apart the old, rotten picnic table that’s been decomposing in my backyard. 😶
It was a nice picnic table once, handmade by my ex-neighbour’s grandpa many moons ago. When she moved away she left it with me. My daughter and her gal pals used it for many crafting projects during the summer months…
But it was no longer repairable. And, since we’re re-doing the deck later in June, it needed to be removed anyway.
My son was playing with Tucker when I started my project. I suggested he help me, and he did. We used a few incorrect tools to remove the rusted, damaged screws, nuts and bolts until we realized pulling it apart with our hands might be easier. I kept my fantasy to take an axe to the thing to myself, not wanting to succumb to a sudden rage attack… 😵 (lockdown is getting to me, sorry not sorry).
So now we have a bald spot on the grass where the picnic table used to be. I’m sure Tucker will dig it up as soon as it stops raining… 🙄
Or maybe not. This is his current state:
The next day was gloomy with a promise of some warm weather. But I spent most of Saturday feeling annoyed that I had a headache. I had all sorts of plans to fill the day with gardening…well, sort of. The garden centers are closed, and the only way I could get some potting soil for balcony boxes (which shall remain void of flowers) was by ordering online and doing a curbside pickup.
I have never done a curbside pickup. The few items I required in the past 13 months have either been available in essential stores that were open, or via an Amazon delivery. I’m not a huge fan of Amazon, but they do have a good and simple return policy for the few items I did need (new Keds, for instance, as my old ones were falling apart before puppy decided to chew them…)
The order went through and two hours later they texted me to say I can come and pick it up. We were just about to get the kids out for a dog walk so I pushed it off to Sunday. That will be my highlight today. I feel like a prisoner on day parole.
Oh, yes, let’s talk very quickly about two covid things.
First of all, I received a lovely message when I clicked on the new available date to get a vaccine slot. (That’s a lie, it’s not a lovely message at all.) This is what came up.
It sounds like I will be unvaccinated for the foreseeable future which doesn’t really change anything for me anyway. I’m not an essential worker, and I don’t want the AstraZeneca vaccine which is the only one that seems to prevail at the moment (I think they’re coming from the USA which has deemed the AZ unsafe for Americans so Biden sent them to Trudeau – don’t quote me, I didn’t fact check this, I only saw a couple of headlines somewhere and declined digging deeper because I am fragile and can’t handle any more idiocy.)
I’ll be fine. I’m healthy and strong, and not a covidiot.
I can’t even remember the last time I was sick, much less had a flu. It must have been several years before covid arrived…I’m not particularly concerned, but I am fed up with the lockdown measures and want to go out and live my life, so if/when the vaccine becomes available I will go get myself jabbed.
My pessimism that this covid thing will go on for a while is justified and me being me, I will tell you why.
Covidiots. They are everywhere, aren’t they?
There is a low-rise apartment building on my street where some Covidiots arranged for parties in the back parking lot. Loud music deep into the night, people not from within their own household congregating without masks…
Frustrating. It’s happens frequently, too…last night was not the first time.
My postal code has been designated a hot zone and still, it’s not sinking in. The irresponsibility is hard to swallow at times.
That being said…
Your readership means a lot to me. I appreciate you more than I can say. Thank you.
But don’t worry. I’ll survive. I am writing books and I’m on a roll. So there.
Speaking of which, I have downloaded and began reading two more books from fellow bloggers and followers:
See you in the comments.