My Box

See, I shouldn't get pissed off all that much that I saw a box, a box that contained chocolates that I bought and had shipped online, was outside next to the recycling bag.  But that means that My Fucking Father went into my room, decided that I have too much of "my stuff," looked at the box, looked at the box next to it, took the contents out of the box that once had chocolates (and it contained a copy of The Handmaid's Tale and some other shit), put those in the box next to it, and took it outside.

The pettiness is coming from him.  He would take the time to take one small box out of my room ... one box that wasn't hurting anyone, including him.  There was no goddamn reason to take it out, but it triggered My Fucking Father so much that he drew a line in the sand and made a point to do so.

Pick your battles ... I broke it down and threw it into the recycling bag.

But oh, I shall remember.

My Day These Days:

• Wake up an hour before work.  Well, hit the snooze button a few times, get up, go to the bathroom, get dressed in a hurry, pick up the food My Father leaves for me, then leave.
• Maybe I go to McDonald's for coffee, maybe not.
• Park, usually in the back, which is a pain-in-the-ass because I have to walk around to a designated door I have to enter in because my supervisor has to ask me questions about my health and then check me in.
• Work.  Well, "work" for four hours, regardless of whether or not there is work.
• Might eat the food I brought from home during break, maybe not.
• Once I leave, where I go next depends on whether or not I'm spending money.  If I am spending money, a fast food drive-thru.  If not, a park or, maybe nowadays, a cemetery.
• If I get fast food, I find somewhere to eat.
• Once I reach the park or cemetery, I recline my driver's seat and look through my phone.  I'm listening to The Common Man Progrum the whole time.
• Walk if I have the time.
• Once a week I call my psychotherapist.
• Get home, usually around 3.
• Dunk the mask Mother made for me in a metal bowl in the bathroom.  I then add detergent.
• Eat, sometimes I duck My Father's insults and my parents bickering at each other.
• After that I iron the next homemade mask I will wear the next day.  Inbetween ironings I will wash the mask I used that day.
• After I leave the washed mask in the bowl, I climb into bed.  Usually I blog post when I have not done so for the day ... like I am doing now.
• Fall asleep.
• Wake up and I look through my phone.
• If there is TV I plan on watching, I watch it around this time.
• I finally pry my eyes off of my phone and shower.  Have to leave enough time for my big-ass hair to air dry.
• Surf the Internet some more.
• Maybe eat.
• Brush my teeth.
• Get into bed, but with my cellphone, looking through some guys I follow on Twitter.
• Finally go to bed, usually later than I want to.  I vow to go to bed earlier starting the next day.

Father's really pissing me off.  Today, while talking to my niece over the phone, Father started picking a fight with Mother over ... something not worthy of picking a fight over.  And he does this thing where Mother tries to talk back to him and he starts blabbing in that insulting voice where he's mimicking her, in a way to make him or her sound stupid -- you know, that sound?  Done it all his life.

Fuck this guy.  Seriously, fuck this guy.

I'm Starting To Get Used To Part-Time

Mondays such as today I work 9-1.  The other four days I work 8:30-12:30.  As I alluded to before, the work usually does not stretch even that long.  Nevertheless, we are told to stay and do ... something until we get to four hours.  And we get to keep our benefits if we "work" 20 hours each week.  Yes, for that I am thankful.  Still, I would like to work full-time.  I don't want to be on the dole, as generous as the benefits are during this economic shutdown.  (Don't appreciate the tax bill that will bite me in the ass next year, but maybe I need to worry about that next year.)  Maybe I should be grateful just to still have this, because it could be and/or get worse.

With that being said, now that we are on our ... third?  Fourth (man, the weeks run together now) week under this ... arrangement, I'm getting used to it.  I don't like losing half my pay each day.  But I love having half a day to do whatever the hell I want.  And I'm enjoying it; I'm eating fast food, I'm taking naps (at least until lately, when it's getting hot), I'm walking around (at least until lately; more on that in a future blog post), etc.  I feel good about looking forward to working only four hours instead of eight (even though I still have my disagreements with it; I'll also try and blog post about those disagreements).  And I don't have to wake up at 6 to report at 7.  The later start times help me get up at a more sane hour ... even though, to be fair, I take advantage of it by staying up later.

What I am saying is that I am inevitably looking at the bright side of this New Normal.  And so, as usual, if we get back to our Old Normal, I will look forward to some things, but I'll be upset that I have to adapt to change yet again and will thus miss some things I'm getting used to now.

And he did it again for dinner.  Tried to be polite and pick up his finished plate from him, but he saw that as an opportunity to ask me if I cleaned my room again.  Last goddamn time I volunteer to help you clean up, motherfucker.

Well, probably not.  And look at me -- I'm cleaning up my room now.  Sorta.  Well, not enough to placate My Fucking Father.  And as long as that's the only thing I can trigger him on, well, maybe I should continue to not do it.

He said it last week, but once again after dinner Father told me to clean up my room and this time around I am so fucking over it I want to kill that bastard.

My bedroom could use some tidying up, but fuck him.

Man, I need something to do on the weekend, like, immediately.

And I Got, Like, A Dozen Or Two More Of This Shitty Toilet Paper

Don't understand why there's a run on toilet paper, but that's just me.

I stocked up on toilet paper before the pandemic.  Many, many years ago, as my parents shut down The Store, they moved much of the unbought and unused merchandise home.  That included toilet paper, but the cheap, shitty, scratchy kind.  Nevertheless, for the past several years I have had a surplus of toilet paper in my bathroom closet, and because of that, I've felt this subconscious need to replenish that surplus.  I bought a bunch of toilet paper last winter, when my folks were gone, and I did so again shortly before they came home this time around.

But I wanted to make a point as to which kind I bought.  In liberal circles, buying the "right" brand of toilet paper has been low-hanging fruit to signal your allegiance to the Resistance because a couple of toilet paper brands are owned by companies that are owned by Koch Industries, and as you may know, the Koch Brothers (Charles and the now-dead David) are nihilistic libertarians who are among the oligarchs running the country these days.

To not fund our oppression, there are lists showing what consumer products are made by subsidiaries owned by Koch Industries.  When it comes to toilet paper, the Kochs own two: Quilted Northern and Angel Soft, made by Koch-owned Georgia-Pacific.  So, no Quilted Northern or Angel Soft for me.

But then, which one should I buy?  Believe it or not, there aren't too many webpages that pop up when you Google "best toilet paper."  What I did when I went to Target was to look at who owns the other brands of toilet paper and pick one.  I don't quite remember which one I bought -- it's the one with the swirly pattern on it -- but I think it's Charmin, and I think I bought it because it's made by Procter & Gamble and I hear they're a not-Republican company.

I think it sucks.  Charmin (if I'm right) sucks in one very particular way, a way which was brought about by the virus.  Ever since we were told that the coronavirus could last on stainless steel and other smooth surfaces for days, I have been paranoid not to touch any of said surfaces.  So when I wash my hands in my bathroom, I have been leaving the faucet open, drying my hands on my bath towel, then reaching down to get a square of toilet paper that I use to turn off both handles.

When I take a square of Charmin, I don't take a square. I rip off only a portion of that square, and it's usually around where I grip that square.  It rarely rips off at the perforation.  I have even tried to hold the square with both hands, my right one right around the perforation, and I still get only one goddamn piece of it.  It's so fucking flimsy as to be useless.  Toilet paper shouldn't be that soft.

Does it wipe my ass?  Yeah, sure.  But so does a leaf, and even though it may not be as scratchy, that sure as shit doesn't make me appreciate the Charmin any more.  Why can't it rip where it's supposed to rip?  I now have to be so fucking careful that I don't come into contact with the handle of the sink faucet because I'm holding a piece of toilet paper only an inch wide and long.  Fucking toilet paper.

Had A Streak Going For The Draft

I've talked about ESPN's Streak For The Cash, now known as Streak, before here on WAF, right?

My record win total is eight in a row.  I matched that last night while I was picking the network's scenarios for the NFL Draft's first round, and I was doin' good, real good!

They had seven, uh, situations in which you could choose one of two options.  For example, the first situation was, "Will Joe Burrow, Chase Young, and Jeff Okudah be selected 1-2-3 in the draft, yes or no?"  And you pick one and you hope you win.  Theoretically, the person with the longest streak for the month gets money.  The longest streak usually is in the low twenties, and so I've never been close, but that hasn't stopped me from trying.

Anyway, I had a two thing-of-a-bobber winning streak going into the first scenario.  They show percentages of how many people chose one choice or the other.  Despite most of the mock drafts I saw saying it would be Burrow/Young/Okudah first through third, only 39% of the people picking said yes.  That included me ... and I and that 39% was right!

I was more psyched about this NFL Draft than probably any one before it, probably because this is the first sports-related thing that was not postponed or cancelled because of the pandemic.  (These "e" sports don't count.)  Ratings were at an all-time high.  And since I had nothing else to watch -- no, I take that back; the series finale of Will & Grace and the season finale of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit were on, I was going to watch them, then I realized that I also wanted to listen to the draft and it was on at the same night, so I stuck with sports -- I thought I might as pick each scenario while listening to the draft.

And I was on a freakin' roll:

• Tua Tagovailoa did get drafted before Justin Herbert!
• At least two Wide Receivers did get picked in picks 12 through 15!  (This is where I thought I would lose, but as usual, I wasn't paying attention.  The now-Las Vegas Raiders picked up a WR at 12, as did Denver at 15.)
• The conference the 18th pick hails from was either the SEC or, as it turns out, the Pac-12!  (Austin Jackson, my alma mater.  Only 18.7% of those picking picked those two conferences over the field.)
• No Running Backs would be selected from the 21st through the 26th picks!
• The state of the college of the player picked 29th overall would not be Texas, Ohio or Alabama!  (Answer: Isaiah Wilson, Georgia.)

Could I run the table and go seven-for-seven for scenarios of the first round of the 2020 NFL Draft?  As I was racking up right answers the selections were going green, I was really getting into it.  But one final scenario loomed large, and it was a tough one: Would the player drafted 32nd/last be on the offensive side of the ball, or on defense/special teams?

Only twice did I buck conventional wisdom.  And looking at one mock draft (from Mel Kiper, Jr. on ESPN.com) and one "Big Board," ranking the best players without thinking which teams might draft them where (via The Athletic), it appeared as if there were more defensive players than offensive players who were most likely to be drafted.  Finally, the Kansas City Chiefs (the defending Super Bowl champion; that's why they were drafted 32nd) had the pick, and I thought they would be going defense, even though I was cognizant that the franchise certainly could trade out of the pick and swap it to a team that needed offense.  So, I went with the wisdom of the crowd and choose D/ST.

But just in case, I went on Twitter.  It is usually the case that a reporter, such as ESPN's Adam Schefter, would be tipped as to who would be picked.  I figured that a reporter on the Chiefs beat would know beforehand, too, so I searched for "Kansas City Chiefs."  And I found a reporter who tweeted that the Chiefs would not trade out of the pick and would select ... a Running Back.

I tried to cheat and change my answer, but it was locked in.  (Each scenario has a time stamp, after which your choice is locked in.  That time changes all the time, however, because you never know when, for example, that 18th pick will actually get picked.)  Kansas City chose an RB different from the one that Chiefs beat reporter tweeted would be selected, but it's still an offensive player.  And my streak went kerflooey.  And I am sad because everything is ruined and sucks.

I'm starting from the bottom.  Again.  I'm concentrating on the draft, again.  I'm choosing which of two conferences will have its players selected more in picks, like, 33 through 45.  But I just lost an eight-thingy winning streak.  Why should I care?

Self-Interviewing?

NFL Draft's tonight!  Finally, something sports-related where all involved can stay safe!  But it'll probably be Zoombombed by some anti-Semite!

I'm looking forward to it.  But two things.

First ... ESPN has traditionally broadcast the draft, but once the NFL Network got up and running, they have broadcast it concurrently and separately.  (Fox jumped in once too -- last year?  Two years ago?)  Probably because of the ad hoc way this draft has become online and tele- only, both networks have joined forces to broadcast a simulcast.  (I don't think Fox is doing anything this year.)

Like it has for the past year or two, ABC is doing its own broadcast, using some of the ESPN personnel.  But the coverage of the draft over free TV will be different from that of ESPN.  ABC has emphasized that they will talk about the, ugh, stories of the young men drafted.  I don't give too much of a shit about their backstories.  I want to know why they might be the next superstar in the NFL.  But it doesn't look like I'll get the nitty-gritty information that actually pertains to how these players will play in the pros.  Instead we're getting the "human interest" dimension.  Do you know how some sports die-hards complain that NBC wastes too much of their airtime delving into the stories of Olympians during Olympic coverage?  That sounds like what we're getting from ABC for the NFL Draft.  And since I can't afford cable, that shit is the only TV coverage I'll get.  Hard pass; I'll listen to ESPN Radio through SiriusXM.  Hopefully they'll broadcast the draft.

Second ... ESPN et al still wants to interview the college players who are going to get drafted, of course.  But how can they do that if they can't have cameramen and sound people come to draftees' houses?

You may have heard of the solution: ESPN sent prospective draftees these production kits that they can set up from home.  I went to journalism school two decades ago, so remotes like this were rare, and technology like this wasn't even a glint in someone's eye.  But take a look at the contents each NFL player-to-be was sent:

The kits sent to prospects include two Verizon phones, two light stands, a pair of tripods, a headset for interviews and a microphone. One of the phone cameras will be on the entire time until the player is selected while another will be used for interviews with ESPN/NFL Network, Commissioner Roger Goodell and with the teams that pick them.

The package also includes hats from all 32 teams, so the players can put on the right one after they’re selected.

So think about what's going on here.  Everybody is self-isolating, so ESPN has sent them what appears to be two boxes with all that shit plus, presumably, instructions.  If they do it right, it'll kind of look like the illustration in this story.  But they have to do it themselves.  Not cameramen, not TV journalists, not professionals, not anybody getting paid -- these draftees and their families and friends and anybody else who would violate any state stay-at-home order.

Why are you making the interviewees set up their own stand-up?  They're being interviewed, and now you're making these poor young men set up the lighting and the audio for the interview?  Like it's their fucking job?  Their only job, so to speak, is to be interviewed.

Do you know what this reminds me of?  Self-checkout.  Grocery stores and convenience stores now are making us do the work they once paid people to do.  I heard a comic say this once, and he's so right: If we're doing our own check-out, shouldn't we at least get paid for it?  Hey, maybe we can get a small discount on the stuff we bought?

This galls me to an extent I doubt other people would care about, but this self-doing creep is getting out of hand.  Yes, I understand these self-standups wouldn't happen if there wasn't this global pandemic.  But you know ESPN and other production companies are seeing this as a way to cut costs by cutting down on labor in the future.  If you make the interviewees now do the setting up for the interview, you don't need to pay a cameraman or an audio person.  So once there's a vaccine and we get back to normal, we may still see people being interviewed do their own stand-up because they're being asked to.

Oh yeah, there's the angle that college athletes aren't getting paid to play football, and now they're not getting paid to set up equipment for their own fucking interview.

The laziness and the cheapness. ...

My, My, My ... What. A. Mess.

Yesterday I'm coming home from the park where I was talking to my shrink.  I was late in starting the tele-session and thus late in finishing it.  That may have been a good thing.

When I was rolling up to my house, I saw a few cars stationed on the road, not moving.  It was very close to my house -- not blocking it, but close enough whereby I had to see what was going on.  Not only were there, like, three cars but a half-dozen people congregating around this area.

After I parked and approached, I saw what it was.  There is a T-intersection very close the house.  Right around there there was water.  A shit ton of water -- small but roiling.

It was very close to the neighbor kitty-corner to us.  So I, mask on, just had to sate my curiosity and mosey on over there and the people who were watching this gusher.  And what I saw even further was mesmerizing.  There was a fire hydrant that was there, and that was knocked over.  There was an intersection sign there; not only were the cross-signs on the ground, I couldn't tell where the pole was.  And since this was a T, there was a stop sign.  I couldn't see a stop sign.

The neighbors who were gawking, plus probably the driver of one car who just had to stop and see what the hell was going on, told me what happened; a few of them even saw it.  A truck took the turn in the intersection way too fast, taking out the stop sign, the intersection sign, and the fire hydrant.  Knocking over that hydrant caused the gushing of water.  I don't know if one of the people there called 911 or if a cop just happened to come by at the right time, but one of the cars stopped at the intersection was local police.

I just had to look closer.  The water was slowly continuing to rise.  I took a look at the fallen intersection sign and I was taken aback by the rumble of the flooding water underneath my feet.  I'm actually worried that the break allowed water to break through the basement of my neighbor.  I started to see the hydrant start jutting up and down from the pressure of the water below.  Soon, the mini-flood created about a six-foot-wide mini-sinkhole around where the hydrant and the signs were.  It wasn't that deep, but it was a hell of a lot deeper than I've ever seen a water main break around town.

Right around then I had a thought.  If I had taken my session on time, or if I went through on my Plan B decision and decided to talk for far less than an hour, I could have been on the street at the same time as this crazy motherfucker.  He could have ran me over.  Maybe I was lucky to avoid him.

Shortly after I got there, city water and the fire department got there.  It was getting cooler to watch our tax dollars at work, but I knew my parents were about to have dinner, so after ten minutes I excused myself.  I went in and we ate, but we were peeking through the window to see the city shut off the main valve (thereby leaving us without water for less than half a hour; Mother wanted to wash her hands but couldn't; I had wipes she could use; she got exasperated at how big a sheet was and tore it in half and stuffed the other half back into the pouch ... my God, she really was raised Third World) and then begin to patch the road at the intersection.

The clean-up looked, and sounded, awesome.  I didn't look out the window much after we got done eating, but I could actually feel the rumble of something out on the street.  I looked out and saw that there was some heavy machinery the city had to call in in order to fix the street -- a forklift, a backloader (maybe?), a hauler for the forklift, plus the cop cars, fire vehicles, and city works trucks.  For a while they had to tape off our part of the street.  I couldn't have gone anywhere anyway; a car locked the road right in front of our driveway to assist in the patch.

They got done a bit past dusk.  In the morning I looked over and I couldn't see anything over there but an erect hydrant and a hell of a lot of sand and dug-up dirt.  Oh, and no water.  They fixed it!

Two things I get from this.  The truck did run, but the witnesses say its front end is completely fucked up.  If they find him, by God, that asshole should pay for everything.  And second, this is why I pay taxes to the city: For clean-ups like this.  It took several hours, but a disaster caused by some prick was fixed, and we can go on with our sheltered-in-place lives.  Viva community!

Today's Gonna Be Crowded

I work in a row of five seats, of which I'm at one end.  We have not been using all five seats for a long, long time.  That's a good thing, because in cases where we're at four or fewer, the desk next to me (to my right) is the one that's usually empty.  That lets me manspread; I put my bag on it so I can take my satellite radio stuff out, and sometimes I put my bookbag up on there too so I can take out my radio and headphones.

We have not been full-up because of people leaving.  Up until recently, in fact, there were only two people, sitting two and three seats away from me -- a safe and comfortable physical distance.  Sure, those two had to come around me to send the folders into the lab, but I take my blessings where I can, and I like that there was no one sitting around me for eight (now four) hours a day.

That has changed.  The department was able to staff up before the coronavirus pandemic.  And now that she's fully trained in, there is a third person who has moved into the row.  And finally, yesterday I was told that the veteran of our group, who has had surgery and was on extended leave, has come back.  Don't know why; the workload is such that I myself could do the work for the entire row on my own every day.  But when I go into work today, all four of those seats in my row will now be filled, including the one right next to me.  The person who will be sitting there (the other four rotate) will be bother me -- through no fault of her own, I'll be scared to breathe in her virus droplets.  Hell, I won't know where I can put my bags while I sanitize my desk.

I Want The Old Normal; How Do You Know It's Not Coming Back?

Yeah, the quarantine and the nation- and worldwide shutdown is getting to me.  Please don't lump me in with those MAGA/KAG protesters that have "popped up out of nowhere" in the past few days; those people are either Republican dumbasses that have been organized by Republican billionaires or hired crisis actors to act as if there is a sizable (and stupid) pushback to all these measures that are being taken to save as many lives as possible.  I understand why this is being done.  And yet I am restive, and bored, and hoping, probably against hope, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

In the meantime I am occupying/scaring myself with as much coronavirus reading material as I can possibly stand.  Several I've come across speculate on the future, and it's not a pretty one.  They're thought pieces that basically revolve around the hardened conclusion that this is The New Normal, or that we will never, ever-ever go back to "normal" ever again.  Just over this weekend I read one general essay about how we will never be the same, a second one about how the restaurant business will never be the same, and a third one about how architecture will never be the same.  To the authors of the pieces and the experts interviewed therein, that light supposedly at the end of the tunnel is in fact an oncoming train.

I'm certainly no expert, and I definitely am not an architect nor a restaurateur.  But I live in this world, and the one that was before last month, before The End Times.  And while I can't predict the future, the writers and interview subjects in those entries in coronavirus porn, as learned and as thoughtful as some of them may be, can't either.  And so I will try an impassioned defense for The Old Normal, and a possible roadmap to the way back there.

I understand that a pandemic like this should make us rethink things.  Many people (and at least one of the writers on these stories I read) refer to 9/11 in how things in America have changed irrevocably.  After those terror attacks there were new regulations on airport security, a brand new way of looking at surveillance, and, at the attack's immediate aftermath, scrutiny and a concerted effort to hunt down Islamic terrorists.  I will submit that things have changed, but beyond hunting down Osama bin Laden, Al-Qaeda and the Taliban, I'm not sure that the changes that have become our New Normal is a good thing.

After this is all over, people are speculating that there will be brand new aesthetics in interior design that will mean the death of (ironically, sort of) both completely enclosed rooms with dangerous, unclean recirculated air and open workspaces.  Meanwhile, restaurants may reopen with half the number of tables there before, and the menus that get passed around and potentially pick up germs will be permanently banned.  Meanwhile, a new grid of surveillance -- precipitated by technology, birthed by the geniuses of Silicon Valley such as Google and Apple -- will track and trace anyone who may unwittingly have and spread the virus; those people will then be told to quarantine for two weeks while a text will go out to everyone who came within six feet of that germ wagon.  Oh, and large crowds at concerts and sporting events may not come back for 18 months, maybe not two years, and maybe not ever.  Well, maybe not at least without getting let in by a bouncer who checks your temperature with a forehead thermometer.

OK, time out.  There are a couple good things that might come from this.  A new appreciation for the restaurant business may finally convince both entrepreneur and consumer to fatten the margins so that chefs and servers can survive beyond a living wage, according to that restaurant piece.  And while the ACLU will be all over it, surveillance in the name of public health might be a type of civil liberty that I am willing to cede -- and I know I probably am not the only one.  (I know the type of people who will hate such a concession: It's those MAGA/KAG protesters that "spontaneously" came out of nowhere to stand up for their rights and shit.  Anything they're against, I'm for.)

But for the other sky-is-falling predictions about what we'll need to do in order to avert the next plague, I think it's a bit of a reach.  We don't know if all these measures are going to be acceptable to the public.  And we don't know if all these measures are going to be needed, either.  We need testing -- nationwide, on-demand, repeated testing, and we need it now.  We get the antigen test, we know where the hell the virus is and we can isolate those who have it while letting those who don't get back to their lives.  And once we get the antibody test, those who have had the virus and have developed immunity to it (hopefully at least) can not only resume their lives, but they could (or be ordered to) give plasma to help those who are gravely ill.

Finally, there's the weapon that ends our global nightmare -- a vaccine.  One expert I came across thinks 18 Months is way too optimistic, and my heart sank reading that.  But once we have that, I see no reason we can't flood and crowd public spaces and bars and restaurants and stadiums and rock halls like we did before.  At the very least there will be an annual serum that everybody will need to take that will best blunt the effects of a mutating coronavirus.  Then and only then will we reach what I think experts and the public agree will be an acceptable amount of risk for us to resume our lives.  Then and only then will comparing this to the flu will make sense.  Yes, tens of thousands of people die from the flu every year.  But we have gone about living anyway.  Maybe we should wash our hands more often and be more careful about how we cough and sneeze.  But otherwise, although we wouldn't have slayed the virus, we will believe we have tamed it to the point where we will not cower in fear of it anymore.

We're not at that point yet.  So those Republican idiots who want to just reopen everything and live like we were before, they don't give a shit about the bodies that will pile up just so we can bring back the economy ... and oh, the economy won't be back because too many people will be too scared to go back to work, and many of them will need to tend to their sick loved ones, and some of them will be dead.  No, this isn't the flu.  Humanity hasn't dealt with a disease like this yet.  If you want to blame somebody for your business shutting down, blame Donald Trump for not believing for 70 fucking days that this could destroy our economy.  He could have accepted those tests from the World Health Organization, shut down air travel from all countries immediately, and ordered the mass production of Personal Protective Equipment.  Did he?

With that being said, I am kind of at a point in thinking that we are at a Janus point with COVID-19.  We don't know how this disease manifests itself, and we certainly don't know where it is.  But we all know that it's contagious, that many of us remain susceptible to it, and that it can kill.  That's why everybody who's sensible will stay at home as much as possible.  Meanwhile, we cannot resume our lives with any normalcy until we get a vaccine.  So that's where we are.  We hide because this disease is in the air.  Once we find a vaccine, we don't hide anymore.  That's it.  That's the endgame.  Hell, that's the whole game.

And so yes, I am pining for a day where everyone will get a vaccine that works perfectly against this coronavirus, and thus we can get back to normal.  As a (faux?) progressive I find myself kind of in arrears with fellow progressives in the sense that normal is something you should run from, not to.  But what I read over these past few days saddens me.  I don't want things to change from what I remember being and living in just 30 days ago.  That was nice then, and I think most people would agree that is a life that's worth going back to.  So I viscerally push back against any notion that we can't go back to before, especially if I don't know what will replace it going forward.

Maybe I'm not that different from those paid Astroturf protestors that cropped up across the nation this weekend after all.  We all want to get back to normal.  I just don't invoke racism, stupidly invoke my "liberty" and think this virus is a conspiracy while I hope for that.  If I get to stay the fuck away from those Republican terrorists, maybe we should quarantine for a good while longer.

Expenses Without Receipts

I might as well do this now, since I don't when I'll be using cash on a regular basis.

Starting from Saturday, April 18:

• I have one EWR.  Back on Friday, March 27, I went downtown to get my shoes shined from Lisa.  She said that although work has been slow, she has seen her fair share of customers.  Hmmm.  I matched the price she charges for shoes as tip, so: $20.

Good through April 18.

Next Internet Wormhole: Minibars And Wine Fridges And Minifridges

Why?  I don't know.  I just started thinking about what if I had to live alone?  I think it was prompted by the coronavirus and my fear that it would take my parents.  The other day I was looking up floorplans for studio and one-bedroom apartments and thinking how much room would I really need.  And then I remembered that I was a grown man and I could have alcohol in my place.  So, what would I need -- specifically, what types of alcohol, and what glasses, and what tools, and what of the, uh, other stuff would I need?  And where would I put all of those things?

So I went on the Wirecutter and Amazon and started looking up minibars and cocktail bars.  To indulge my fantasy, I'll tell you that I didn't find one thing I really liked.  They were all huge -- too huge for the studio or one-bedroom in my mind -- and they were all ornate and they were all expensive.  I think the cheapest one I saw was $200.  Shoot, at that point, couldn't I just throw everything I need in my kitchen cabinet?

(In the middle of all this I was looking specifically at what kinds of alcohol I needed to buy.  The recommendations on the Internet are not in consensus, so if in my hypothetical minibar, I would pare it down to what one website called the "six base spirits" -- vodka, gin, tequila, rum ... uh ... whiskey and ... bourbon?  Scotch?  Brandy?  Maybe there's only five.  Or four.  This is getting so complicated, it's not fun to dream about anymore.)

Oh, and all these minibars all have racks for wine.  I have it in my head already that wines should be in the fridge.  I dreamed about owning a wine refrigerator, a small one, since, oh, last night, when I thought about getting a wet bar.  So I went on the Wirecutter to find out what the best mini-wine fridge is.  And that took up a lot of time, too.

And then I thought that, since I'll be a swinging bachelor and I doubt I'll ever buy food that I need to store since I love fast food and I can't cook, why would I need a full refrigerator?  I just need a mini-fridge -- probably the biggest one possible, because I'll have to throw at least my pop in there.  And with the recommendations from the Wirecutter and Amazon, I thought about putting the wine fridge on top of the mini-, to save space.  And then I thought about how low the mini-fridge will be if I don't have a big one, and my back is killing me, so do I really want to just put what will the refrigerator I use on the floor where I would have to stoop to get my food?  And then I went on some industrial warehouse website to find a platform which is supposed to be used as risers or stairs for workers to work in high places and to use that instead to life up both fridges closer to eye level.

And then it was four o'clock in the morning and Father was up and in the kitchen and I went to bed after wasting two or three hours fantasizing about this.

Oh, NOW You Give Us Masks

A further tightening of the rules/better sign my company is taking the coronavirus seriously.  During work yesterday/Thursday, e-mails came down from both my bosses that starting today/Friday, all workers are required to wear only surgical masks provided by the company.  Apparently there had been "discussion" that people wearing homemade cloth masks could not be trusted to wash them after they got home; thus, these clean and disposable masks are the best, if not only, way to ensure that every employee is wearing a clean, virus-free mask.

I wasn't the only one one wearing a homemade mask; there was less than a handful of others I saw who brought their own, most of them doing so once masks were mandated at work Wednesday.  But I'm narcissistic enough to think that someone looked at me and thought, "Man, that dude doesn't fucking wash his fucking mask!"  And so my initial reaction to it was one of visceral defensiveness.  As in, why in the hell don't you trust me not to wash my mask?  Hell, even if I don't, the one person I'll harm is me since I'm the one wearing the (supposedly) dirty mask and thus (supposedly) breathing in my dirty respiration.

And then I thought, "Hey, about fucking time!"  As much as I appreciate Mother making me these masks, they don't compare to a surgical mask.  Its material is much better in preventing bad particles from either getting in or getting out.  And yes, they are cleaner, if only because they're single-use.  Shit, man, you can't trust people that they're going to wash their homemade masks!

But the bottom line is my company should have been supplying these masks three weeks ago, around the time I started wearing them.  It was behind some states requiring and even mandating public use of masks one and even two weeks ago.  If it was ahead of the curve, Mother would not have had to make masks for me.

Now I'll have to be honest: Mother's masks aren't entirely comfortable to wear.  She made them with earloops made out of the same yarn as the rest of the mask, and while it's ingenious and pretty, they don't have the give that elastic loops on surgical masks have.  They have been pulling on my ears, and they hurt like hell.  Furthermore, upon further hand-washings I think the yarn of the masks shrinks, and so repeated wearings have, uh, worn on my ears more and more.  Mother made four for me, and at least two of them have shrunk (I think) to the point where they don't stay on; the loops pull so much that they actually slip off my ear(s).  When I told Mother, she replaced the yarn loops on those two masks with these elastic ones.

And now, those masks are obsolete.  Or are they?  Hey, they are beautiful, and I care that Mother made them for me.  But now I am going to bring them to work but not wear them.  How long will I keep up the lying charade to Mother of using the masks?  Hey, at least I won't have to wash and iron the masks, right?

But ... I go to parks to walk/exercise after my half-day at work, and even though masks in public aren't mandated in Minnesota yet, I might as well wear them there.  I haven't told Mother about exercising around parks and cemeteries yet, let alone this new rule at work.  And if I tell her the latter, I might break her heart.

Eh, might as well keep using the masks, since I actually do have a use for them.

We've Had Some Fucked-Up Weather Lately

This is, theoretically at least, springtime.  And it's not as if there can't be so weird, wild weather this month.  In fact, last April we were hit with three blizzards that almost broke me.

And yet I don't think I've seen weather this type of weird as I have twice in the past week.  On a few/several days, especially both last Thursday (I think; I don't remember, but looking at this list of past weather reports and looking at both the snowfall and the snow records, it had to be last Thursday) and then on Monday, the weather alternated between sunny and ... not.  When it wasn't sunny, it wasn't just cloudy; snow came down, heavy at times, and the wind was howling.

I point out last Thursday and Monday because I was victim to it.  On both afternoons I walked around Lakewood (ETA at 1:34 a.m. on April 17 that I recollected incorrectly -- I was not at Lakewood Cemetery on Monday; I was checking a park closer to my workplace because I needed to find a place to videochat with my therapist besides my house, and the park close to home did not pick up wi-fi.  Sadly, this park had no wi-fi either; nevertheless I took a walk anyway), and it just so happened that the weather turned from great and warm to ... not just as I was walking.  It was ridiculous at how bad and wintry it was.  The wind was blowing into my face, and the snow was coming at me sideways and accumulating on my jacket and shoes.  And the thing that pissed me off was that it was sunny when I parked at the cemetery, and as I laid there listening to The Common Man, and when I left the car to start my walk.  And, I think, once I aborted my walk, ran back into my car and started the engine, the wind stopped blowing, the snow abated, and the clouds cleared -- and I'll be goddamned, it was a sunny day, a glorious one even.  Fucking ridiculous.

I hate weather that isn't consistent.  You are either sunny or cloudy for the entire day.  I don't like intermittent clouds and sun; the day can't make up its mind.  And do you know when it's raining but you can the sun in the distance?  I fucking hate that shit.

So what happened in the past week, that was absolutely goddamn crazy.  I think -- I think -- that the weather will get warmer and so we won't get that weird weather.  I hope, because that shit-ass weather should be illegal.

Bad Driver: DZY 802

Man, I know what you were going to do once you swerved to the lane to the left of me.  And I had a split second where I thought, "Can I?  Should I?"  And I tried, but even though I put my foot on the pedal, and I heard my engine roar, it, uh, didn't go anywhere.  Meanwhile, you and your souped-up Jag swerved just in front of me, and just behind the slow car that you just had to overtake because you are a man (of course it's a man) going places.

Could I have just let you get in front of me?  Yeah.  But I thought I could take you, this one car, this one time.  Besides, you'd probably cut in front of me with only inches to spare if I let you go in front of me.  I saw you shimmy your ass inbetween two cars when you had no right to after you went by me.  You're an asshole.  An asshole with a hell of an engine, but an asshole nonetheless.

Turns Out I'm A Trendsetter

I should have followed up on this about a fortnight ago.

Remember when I was boasting that Mother darned for me the prettiest cloth masks that ever was, and that I was going to honor her by not wearing them?  Well, I blogged that on a Sunday.  Overnight I changed my mind to the point of saying to myself, "Well, let me try it out in some half-ass measure over work.  I'm tucked into an out-of-the-way space anyway, so I won't feel so awkward."  So on the following Monday, where I was assigned to My Favorite Department, I started to wear it, but only while sitting down at my desk.  That doesn't make sense, I know; the main reason to wear a mask is to not spread your respiration into the air and potentially onto other people, and there's virtually no chance of that happening if you're not moving.  But whenever I stood up to go somewhere, I took it off.

But … I don't know if it was talking to other people in the department, or more news I heard on the radio or read on the Internet, or some act of courage that welled up inside me, but … shoot, I think it was that afternoon (where I may have shifted back to my original position outside) but certainly by the next day that I started wearing it around at work everywhere.  I decided that the social stigma attached to a mask was finally outweighed by the extra layer of safety, however unproven, a homemade mask provided.  At least one person agreed; I looked up upon hearing a banging of the glass window from the other side of my department, and a worker wearing a bandana gave me a thumb's-up!

Honestly, that helped me overcome my self-awareness a lot.  By Wednesday at the very latest I would put on my mask as soon as I got down disinfecting my workstation, per enacted work rules, and kept it on for the whole day.  And even though no one else in the department followed suit, I didn't mind because deep down, I felt I was keeping myself, at the very least, safe.  I have to note, however, that I was far from the trend-setter; the other Chinese person working in my department started wearing a mask one if not two weeks before this.  She's smarter than me, and kudos to her for not giving a fuck about how she looked.

---

I say this now because yesterday I started seeing a couple of the higher-ups wearing a surgical mask.  That was a prelude to news that I got through text from my boss after work yesterday: There will be an extra layer of security for everyone who comes in … and now everyone is required to wear a mask at work.  Seems like I am ahead of the curve (although not as ahead as my co-worker, of course)!  Now, everyone will be given a surgical mask when coming into work.  I am allowed to use my own, however, which raises a question: Are people going to be OK with me continuing to wear my old, homemade mask now that (apparently) the company is providing (I think) the surgical mask which should be much better?  I want to keep wearing the ones Mother made for me because, well, Mother made them for me.  I guess I'll let social pressure decide for me.

I'm Thinkin' I'm Not Too Long For Work

Bad (half-) day at work today.  Maybe I'll quit.  Maybe I'm being fired.

My supervisor fuckin' gave me lip.  The computer wasn't generating images from the applications we scanned, so I checked this computer to make sure it was, uh, generating.  It looked like it was, but I went back to my computer to check, and it still wasn't, uh, generating.  So my supervisor looks at this computer and pushes a button, and it started to, uh, generate.  Didn't think it needed to be done because, according to the screen, I should have seen images.  Apparently what I thought was a sign that I would get images was not.

So I go check this computer again, trying to see why she did something that made it, you know, go.  I blurted out something non-passive-aggressive, to which she replied something to the effect of, "Well, you here, and. ..."  And what?  What?  I didn't do something that you think I should have known to do, and you are therefore superior to me because you did it and you know you had to do it?  Fuck that noise.  Didn't need her bitchy tone.

So shit like that might be why I quit.  Why I might be fired is because, on at least two occasions, I felt as though a task that I could have and should have done was given instead to other people, specifically to other people that have less seniority.  Eavesdropping, I'm not sure I even know what to do.  But that would raise the issue of why don't I know how to do these tasks these two people who were hired behind me apparently know.

They say that a sign that you're going to be fired is that tasks that would be assigned to you are assigned to other people instead.  Just sayin'.

Forgot My Aunt

This is a good time to talk to everyone.  And it's high time that I talk to my aunt -- as in, the one who stayed with us, inexplicably, for two weeks.  She gave me her personal information before she left because she wanted to keep in touch, and even though I didn't think she should have stayed her for two damn weeks, I wanted to be nice to her because I don't think either of my parents were nice to her while she was here.

I swear I threw that information in my desk.  But I haven't found it, and so calling her slipped my mind (although, to be fair, I kind of forgot to speak to her after she left, disappearing info or no).  And although I have had a fleeting thought of, "Hey, you know, maybe I should speak to my aunt!" from time to time, I have yet to speak to her in the, uh, 18 Months since she left.

About a year ago I was at my aunt and uncle's place for dinner, and I told them about calling her, and my aunt said that she will give me her number … but she didn't think it was the right time to give it to me then, and I haven't asked for it since.

Had a thought to call her … well, now.  But I tried looking for her number and it's still lost.  And since my parents don't want me to speak to her, if I do get my aunt's number, I'll have to call her while I'm out of the house, and since I'm only out of the house (at least for now) in the daytime, I'm not sure if I can call her in Hong Kong.  But shoot, I need to call her.  It's beyond time.

I hope she can forgive me.  I hope she can remember me, heck. ...

So My Fucking Mother talks about some property tax relief plan for poor seniors who own a house they've been in a long enough time because my uncle has something like that in Pennsylvania, and so she wanted me to look it up.  But there isn't one; there's only a tax deferment program.

So I tell My Fucking Mother, except that she tells me to tell My Fucking Father, who's watching some Met opera on public television.  I tell him, and he says ... well, I think that dumb motherfucker said no, that's not it, there's a different program.  And he said it like he had already looked it up or something.  No, I replied, there is no other program -- this is the only program Minnesota has.  And he said fine.  And I walked away and waved my hand at his dumb ass while I did.

That was the stupidest conversation I had with that old man in a long time.

If it weren't snowing outside right now, I would either be out for a long walk or I would be taking my car and heading toward Iowa.  I have to start leaving the house for a few hours on the weekend.

Hottest Babe In The Hooters Calendar: March

Not a great month, to be frank.  Only ten babes, which means bigger pictures, which is a plus.  But four of them are pictured with their arms in front of them, and seeing such a high percentage of the waitresses do that really stands out to me, and not in a good way.

Beyond that, three of them are in one-piece bikinis, and seeing 30% of these babes in non-skin-bearing clothing (one of them being main girl Eariel of Chicago) also really bugs me (although Hailey of Ft. Myers, Fla. is a dark-haired standout).

That leaves three.  One of them, Oklahoma City's Miranda, also has long and striking black hair, but her skin is extremely pale and she seems to be really tall, and that combination does not work for me.  Then there's Brittney, out of Merritt Island, Fla., and while she's rocking a two-piece, the ends of her long, curly, blonde locks cover her boobs, plus she's posing in a 45-degree angle, plus her right hand is awkwardly placed on her right hip, plus she's gritting her teeth.  She looks uncomfortable.

The winner, then (more by default than anything) is Jaelyn, out of Gurnee, Ill.  The voluminous, long dark hair doesn't do much for me, her right hand is also placed conspicuously on her right hip, and I'm distracted by her posing in front of a Jeep.  But she's in a skimpy orange two-piece bikini, she's got a good body, and she's got a good smile.  This would be run-of-the-mill in most other months, but Jaelyn wins going away for March 2020.

I will masturbate to these women as soon as I have the time and opportunity.

So out of the blue My Fucking Father said after dinner I should clean my room and even though he's probably right I won't know because fuck you I won't do what you tell me.

I need to go out more on the weekend.  Doesn't matter that I don't have anywhere to go.  I should just go.

Time To Deal With A Goddamn Alarm Again

So I was taking a late shower just now when I heard a beep.  You know, it's one of those intermittent, replace-the-alarm-battery beeps bullshit that seems to happen at an in opportune time, like in the dead of night.

I dealt with this bullshit one winter when both parents were wintering.  I had to play the game called "Where Is The Fucking Beep Coming From?" and realized that the sound of one beep (oh yeah, there were two at this time) wasn't coming from the alarm in the hallway but from the one in my sister's room, spaced maybe six feet apart.

I swear that a human can detect where a beep is coming from, but apparently you can't.  I thought it was in the upstairs hallway; it wasn't.  I dawdled at the top of the stairs; the beep actually was coming from downstairs.  So I grab all the batteries I saved up just for this occasion (save for AAA, and I'll be goddamned if I ever come across a situation where I'll need AAA and don't have them) and went downstairs to begin the hunt.

There is a smoke alarm downstairs, stuck to the ceiling, just outside my parents' room.  I looked at it while it beeped, and once it did, I ripped it down and replaced the 9V, then put it back in.  But goddammit, it kept beeping and beeping.

Turns out that wasn't where the beep was coming from.  I swear that as I was looking at this smoke alarm I could hear its beep go from it to my ears ... but it's not, and that's fucking bullshit.  So I'm frantically trying to detect where this fucking beep is before its next audio bullet penetrates my eardrum.

I finally realize that, in fact, it was coming from the CO detector, which was plugged into an outlet next to Father's old radio setup.  And this time I know it had to be the case because as I heard it beep, the red "ALARM" light lit up.  (I'm smart.)  So I pull it out in order to change the batteries.  But as soon as I unplug it, that intermittent beep turns into a sustained wail that absolutely fucking hurts my ears.  I had to plug it back in so I could be ready to deal with it.  The second time I pulled it out I turned it around and saw that I needed a goddamn screwdriver to open the cover, so I had to plug it in again, go upstairs and get my Swiss Army Knife.  Jesus fucking Christ, all of this over an alarm!

So I pull the CO alarm a third time and I dash into the laundry room because I didn't want to wake my parents.  (Oh, and by the way, throughout all of this, neither of my parents came out to see what was going on.  Did they not hear the beeps, or my footsteps coming down the stairs, or the wail from the CO alarm?  I don't get it.)  I get it open and replace the battery and screw the cover back on and plug it back into the outlet ... and 15 Seconds later I hear a beep.  I unscrew it and believe I put the 9 Volt in the wrong way, so I try it again, and plug it in again, and it beeps again.  Goddammit!!!  What the fuck is going on with this fucking thing?!  I got tired of the bullshit at this point, plus it's late at night, so I took out the new battery (it actually might be old; I usually don't toss used-up batteries until I can get it tested to make sure it absolutely is out of juice) and left the alarm unplugged on the ottoman.

So the battery I replaced the old one with may be old itself.  Maybe, just maybe I didn't plug it back in right (shrug).  I didn't really time it, and if the beep is 30 Seconds apart instead of 15, maybe the alarm has to be thrown away.  It is 11 Years old, after all.  Or maybe I can't understand how this shit works and I'll need Father to help me.

But the beeping is gone.  The ringing continues to ring in my ears, but the beeping is gone.

No Alcohol For Me This Weekend, Oh No

So I thought I'd dart into a liquor store (they're considered essential here in Minnesota) to get some alcohol and I was immediately confronted by a worker barking out commands: "This way!  THIS WAY!!!  Credit cards only, stay six feet away from each other, and you must use a cart!"  I understand what she was trying to enforce and how she was enforcing it, but damn, her tone totally turned me off from buying any liquor.  Well, that and the fact that I couldn't find what I wanted -- a single can of hard cider.  Actually, to be honest with myself, I could have been treated so nicely and I still would've walked out of there with nothing because I couldn't find what I wanted.

I am daunted by the prospect of drinking only water or milk this weekend; the juice I bought last weekend I finished last night.  I think I can get through the weekend without alcohol, but can I?

Anyway, that woman needs to lay the fuck off, doing the right thing or no.  That's what I want to get off my chest.

Well, work today changed a lot.

My boss said that the trickle of work we've received the past two weeks is going to be the nadir.  Didn't feel like that today.  I was in this last wave of staggered shifts in my department, sure, but the last 90 minutes felt like hours.  I got so bored that I got tired of going on the Internet.  My bosses understood we got so bored that they said some of the others (I got there too late) could take a second break.  And this is for a four-hour shift.

So, even though I didn't think even my bosses thought this would happen this week, maybe I understand what my boss was saying about being strict about minutes at work ... and about unemployment.  Maybe he is now worried that we won't have enough work.  You see, once we get below 20 minutes hours of work, we lose our benefits (at least that's what he says).  So, maybe our higher-ups are in fact trying to keep us around instead of pushing us out.  Maybe I'm being generous.  After all, with the "encouragement" we're getting to go on unemployment, it kind of feels as if my bosses, and thus the company, is trying to game the system, and I didn't think that was going to happen, especially after what I consider to be a rah-rah, rally-around-the-company e-mail we all received last week.

But the writing's on the wall.  We're getting 50% of our paycheck for the time being.  I would be OK with 60%, but seeing as if we're not going to get an uptick on work for some time, I don't think I want to be pulling half of my paycheck for the intermediate future.

One sweetener to accepting unemployment: I didn't pay attention to the part of the stimulus plan where everyone on the dole gets $600 dollars a week on top of the determined unemployment benefit.  See, I talked about that with my boss yesterday; I looked at the Minnesota Unemployment Insurance website and that $600 part wasn't sussed out yet, but I looked at that site again today (at work) and it said, plainly, that whatever we're getting, we get an extra $600 on top of that.  That's ... extraordinary.  I still don't believe it.  Minnesota is, thank Buddha, more generous than other states when it comes to UI, and I still wasn't able to pull down a whole lot of money.  (And frankly, I didn't believe it when my boss told me that was the deal, even though the state UI website still says they were hammering out details.  I think I have more experience being on the dole than he does, so I need to forgive myself for not being able to, uh, imagine that such largess would be possible.  He thinks I don't get it.  Whatever, man.)

Add up those factors and I should be applying right now.  One problem: That thing about telling my parents about UI at dinner yesterday?  Yeah, well, I couldn't do that.  And I couldn't fess up today either.  A combination of Father being kind of a dick and the news about 10 million people filing and, well, it didn't seem like the right time.  Tomorrow, though, the last day this week I can apply, and after I get home super early ... well, maybe I won't tell my parents this week either. ...

OK, Things Have Fucking Done Changed Now ... In More Ways Than One

Two unfortunate developments at work, which remains meager.

We now have new hours.  I am supposed to come in at 8:30 instead of 7.  That's great for me to sleep in, but bad, in my opinion, because of the other shoe to drop: My boss is encouraging all of us to get on unemployment.  He probably was before, but I spoke with him to make sure where he was going with this, and he said that even though I didn't have to, he thinks it's the the smart thing to do.

He then said something I possibly should have understood, but I really think this needed to be spelled out: Because of lack of work, everybody's getting cut down to 20 hours of work.  Now, I did say that I didn't mind getting only 70% of my check.  Frankly, I would be OK if I get only 60% of my check, and I would get 60% of my check under this situation if I declare Paid Time Off for one day this week.  However, maybe I should not do that and instead just go through unemployment and accrue Paid Time Off.  Otherwise, I will go through that Paid Time Off, then borrow for future Paid Time Off (I'm allowed to do that in this company) until I couldn't any more, and then come to a dead end.

But ... dammit, I don't want to go on unemployment.  I know a part of every paycheck I've received is taken from me for unemployment insurance, and therefore I have already "paid" for this.  But since this is considered wages, it will be taxed, so next year (and possibly next year) I'll get socked with a tax bill when I file next year.  Yeah, that might be a worry to worry about next year, but it's a pain in the ass and I don't want to.  I also don't like this because I am about to have dinner with my parents and confess that that is what work wants me to do.  Maybe they'll understand that, maybe they won't.  Mostly, though, I don't want to do this because of pride and ego.

With that being said, going on the dole may be too logical for me to reject.  This is money that is supposed to help me.  Meanwhile, I have car insurance and car repairs coming, and even though I do have cash on reserve, I could use some more.  I'll think on it.

---

One other thing.  My company, and thus my bosses, are now taking a very close eye on hours.  I thought that means I should make sure I don't accrue overtime.  But now, I think I have to keep myself under 20 hours.  That's because, over the course of my meeting, he had to bring up the fact that I stayed 20 minutes after I "should have" clocked out Monday.  I needed to sanitize my desk, but I was under the impression I had to process all these applications before I leave ... it's a long and dumb story.

In my way of thinking, if I keep myself under 40, it doesn't matter if I go above the total number of hours I'm supposed to go over.  In other words, if I ostensibly work 24 hours this week (20 hours plus four Paid Time Off), does it really matter if I technically work 24 hours and 20 minutes?  Apparently so, with the way my boss oh-so casually brought it up.  (wanking motion)

I guess I have to watch the clock now.  And this makes me think that my boss is also controlling the pursestrings; whatever more money unemployment pays out, the less money the company pays out.  That may be why we have this 20-hour edict, and this may possibly be a strict edict.  Whatever.  Unfortunately, this also means that I am being scrutinized for something that I don't think is a big deal.  This might change if we get back to full-time work.  Maybe not, and if this scrutiny gets really irritating, I might have to look for other work.

OK, Sorry, Just Asking

I'm getting freaked out right now about how my hair is growing.  It's out of control -- like, childhood out of control.  You should see my hair when I was really young; it's a source of trauma and it's damaged me for life.

Anyway, as I think I've said on WAF before, if it gets to be long enough, I would risk getting the coronavirus if I go to a house of a stripper girlfriend and get it buzzed off.  I know that's bad, I know that's shallow, but honestly, I cannot be the only one feeling this way.

The good news is that I know of (not know, know of) several strippers who do hair.  One of them has to have her tools, a chair and the need for some income, right?  (I'll be honest: I would ask to strip naked, because I don't want hair on my clothes, and I fantasize that she'll be turned on to the point where, after she's done with my hair, she'll suck my dick.  Yes, I'm a pervert.)

I know of one above all the others: *****e*.  Haven't spoken to her in some time, but I know she last worked at a haircutting place, and since the governor decreed it non-essential, I presume she was out of work.  It's been almost a month, so, after getting cut from work early today (again), I figured I text her and ask if she would be up for it.  (I've fucked her before, BTW.)

Got a reply when I was eating Taco Bell at the nearby park: "Of course not."

"Of course not"?  Look at you, all conservative and cautious and shit.  I thought strippers had impulse control.  That's why I like strippers!!

I can understand that *****e* said no, but such a definitive smackdown is uncharacteristic of her.  And the tone of that text is so harsh that I think she would rat on me to other girls and other customers once she does parties again.  Yeah, I think she would tell on me to others about this.  It's just a question, but apparently I've triggered her to the point where I fear she's going to try and turn me into some fucking pariah.

Get a grip.  Goddamn.

Meanwhile, my hair's getting longer and longer.

The Massage Parlor Wormhole

I truly, honestly wanted to get started on my taxes, even despite the nagging from My Father Saturday.  But I got sucked into looking up massage parlors for the past damn hour.  I'm not going to one.  Hell, they're probably not open anyway.  But that's what I've just done for the past hour, and now I'll have to go to sleep.

Well, maybe I'll write something down.  But then I'll have to go to sleep.

Yeah, Parents Are Starting To Get To Me

So My Fucking Mother blew up on me yesterday at dinner.  I walked out with just a t-shirt just as My Fucking Father opened the back door, letting the relative cool air in.  "Wear a shirt!" she screamed.  Bitch, you know how it is in my bedroom?!  And how in the hell was I supposed to know he was going to fucking open the door?!

And My Fucking Father was nagging me today after dinner.  He asked me over, then said, "Why don't you do your taxes?  You're not doing anything, right?"  Fuck you.  I was going to do them this weekend, but since he just nagged at me about that bullshit, and now that we've all been extended until July 15, I'm not fucking going to it this weekend, OK?

I've been home too fucking much.

Getting Paid At 70%

Yes, so my worry about being called "essential" even though we're really not "essential" has taken a twist.  There is work coming down the pike, but even we are not immune (in a manner of speaking) to shutdowns affecting other sectors of the economy, because those sectors test people for drugs, and we are still in the business of testing.

The slowdown started, at least for me at work, last week.  That Thursday, for the first time in a long time, if not ever, there was no work to be done.  None.  Normally, after our main work is done, we would be told to work on entering other applications, and after that, we would go into the lab and rip those applications out of their envelopes.  If there wasn't that, we would get to the business of putting inserts into glass tubes and folding small trash boxes.  Starting last week, there was none of that.  So, we were given a choice by our bosses: You have to leave, but you can either take Paid Time Off (and we've done that from time to time during slow periods) and going unpaid, which was a first for me. 

I was told by veterans that our position used to be part-time, aka work-until-work-is-done.  They then converted to full-time with benefits, and I thought that was fantastic, because I sure as hell would not go from being a temp to a job where I would not be guaranteed 40 Hours per week.  Well, I'm not guaranteed that now, although, to be fair, my company hasn't been hit by a global pandemic before.

Isn't it ironic?

I bitched a lot about having to go to an environment in which I will be working with people who will frequently be within six feet of me.  So, theoretically at least, I should be happy with being free of that environment.  And in many ways, I am.  Not only can I distance physically now, I have been able to go to a park or to Lakewood and take a walk, which helps with my anxiety.  Also, despite being fed very well at dinnertime, I have taken to drive-thru to indulge in as much fast food as I possibly can.  I'm getting fat, and this is money that I'm spending, but damn, fast food tastes good.  Cokes, too.

But even last week I could tell that getting cut early was going to happen more frequently, if not be "The New Normal" everybody's talking about.  And that is going to affect my paycheck, which is something I need to look after.

I was OK last week.  Thursday was the only workday where I was cut earlier than expected.  See, I came in late and left early on Wednesday and Friday, but that's because I worked Sunday, and the company right now is forbidding overtime, and I decided I was going to alter my hours Wednesday and Friday.  When I made that decision I didn't expect work to dry up like this.  The whole department was cut early Wednesday and Friday as well as Thursday, but somehow I made my modified hours on Wednesday and Friday.  Add that I leave a little later than I should and my reimbursement for the gym membership I can't use, I actually got paid more than 40 Hours last week -- which is usual.

It bit hard this week.  We were cut early Tuesday through Thursday.  Tuesday was the day it really hit home for me, because Tuesdays are usually our busiest day (a workweek starts on a Monday and shipments usually take a day to get here, plus many companies save up their work from Friday and Saturday, yadda-yadda-yadda).  If we get cut early Tuesdays, then there really is no work.  They were cut early on Friday, but I took PTO for yesterday.  And with the way things are going, taking PTO one day a week isn't the worst thing in the world to do -- for social distancing as well as monetary reasons.

Nevertheless, with half-days three days last week, I estimate that took 30% off my paycheck.  I can deal with that, for now; it helps that I can't go anywhere to spend my paycheck anyway.  If it get worse, however, then I'll worry ... especially since I just logged onto my work e-mail and my boss and boss' boss is letting everyone know that they can get unemployment if work really dries up.

We might be "essential," but I might wind up staying at home anyway.  Like I said, isn't it ironic?

Three-Day Vacation ... Has Already Started!!!

I decided to take today off.  Again, my job really isn't that "essential," and if I am going to #stayhomesaveslives, I should put my money where my mouth is.  After I got home from eating drive-thru, walking in the cemetery, depositing money for my parents in a bank and shopping at Target and Cub, I don't plan on being outside at all until I go back to work on Monday.

After dinner last night, I pulled up the covers in my bed at, I think, around 5 ... and slept until 12:30.  And this is after a hard nap in the car at Lakewood between 12:45-1 until 2, and I mean a hard nap.  I've been averaging less than four hours of sleep per night, but I paid my sleep debt off just now, and then some, I believe.

But since I woke up technically on Friday and forgot to spin the wheel at Facebook's Texas Hold 'Em Poker, I back down to square one, aka Day 1/10%.  Boo.  Whatever.

Oh, and the first thing I did after I woke up at 12:30 was to look through my phone, realize that I woke up at 12:30, then scroll through my phone for the next 90 Minutes.  I could have taken a shower, which is something I planned on doing every day after leaving the house -- you know, just to make sure I showered off all the virus -- but I peeled my eyeballs off my phone at 2 in the morning, and with Father potentially making breakfast at 4, and with needing a lot of time now to get my big hair dry ... well, I'm going to risk infection and not shower till tomorrow.  Whoops.  But I will brush my teeth, since I didn't get around to eating the banana and pastry Father packed for me for lunch for which I never eat at work for lunch.

OK, Millennial

Going to get this off my chest.

Shortly after I was told by my boss no, I could not use the ubiquitous piles of gloves I see all around me at work, he sent out a department-wide e-mail both assuring all of us that our company and he are taking infection control seriously while at the same time enforcing policies to make sure that we don't step out of line.  Not only are we reminded we cannot use gloves (it's obvious that was just for me); he had warnings about overtime and leaving on time as well.

Two things that are irksome about this e-mail.  First, he insists that if we take all precautions at work -- wash your hands, cover your mouth, disinfect your area before and after your shift -- we should be fine.  He's my boss, and he certainly knows more about the company than I do, but he sure as hell is not an epidemiologist, so forgive me, but I'm not going to take his word that we'll be fine.  He damn well knows that our department isn't spaced six feet apart, and that people walk through our area all the time.  If one of us is sick, that person probably infects the whole department, and then the whole department is wiped out -- and if it gets really bad, the company might be liable.  Then, that'll be on his ass.  We probably won't be fine then.

The other thing that pissed me off was the last line.  He wanted us to keep things "in perspective."  Paraphrasing, he said that he would rather be grateful that we still have jobs, unlike many people who have been fired and are now on unemployment.  Dude, I live with my elderly parents.  If I get the coronavirus from work, and I give it to them, there's an elevated chance they'll get sick, or worse.  Add to it that our job is essential in name only, if that.

I'm kind of taking a risk of bringing this virus home with me.  I guess I'll be the first person I'll have to hold accountable if that happens, but I sure as shit am not thanking him or anybody else for putting myself in this position just so I can get a paycheck.  Sure, people who've been let go of their jobs aren't bringing in any money and they're worried as hell about it.  But first of all, they'll get on unemployment, and that's Minnesota unemployment, which is a fuck-ton better than other states.  And second of all, assuming they love their fellow statespeople, they'll be able to just chill at home, physically distant from everybody.  And you know what?  I kind of envy them being able to be totally safe from this invisible, invincible disease that's going to ravage our state.  So he can fucking pump the brakes when he says we all should feel grateful.

And besides that, we've been cut from work several times over the past couple weeks, an indication of the slowdown in the national (and global) economy.  I'm not sure we should be that grateful for work we don't have and money we can't make.  But hey, at least I get to get home faster, don't I?

It's surprising how willing he is to toe the company line.  I couldn't say I know him, but I kind of wished he would understand the plight we worker bees are going through.  (I also wished he knew I live with my folks, but to be fair, I've never told him.)  This isn't a "let 'em eat cake" situation.  But he sounds flippant, and I am chalking that up to him being young.  And despite all the data saying that this will adversely affect the old (such as my parents), people his age can get sick from this.  In fact, a couple people his age have died, I believe.  I would think that he would cool it with this ... well, cool it with this arrogance about not getting down with the sickness.  But to me, him thinking we'll all just be fine (when the governor says 80% of Minnesotans will get infected, BTW) and we should all just shut up and be grateful about having somewhere to go every day (for only half a day) is a sign that he isn't taking goddamn COVID-19 seriously -- like many people of his generation aren't taking it seriously.  So what I'm saying is, Gen Y dude, stop.

Wait ... you mean to tell me that I somehow didn't get to playing slot machines/poker on Facebook at all yesterday and so I have to start all the way the fuck back at Day 1/0% -- again?!  It was just four days since I actually forgot and needed to make that fucking climb again.  I was up to Day 4/150%, and it all goes to shit?!  Man, I was on Facebook this morning, posting something and ... well, maybe I didn't play then.

Man, what the fuck ever.