The past ten days have been a week, y’all.
Let me give it to you in numbers:
1 dose of Covid vaccine
1 Covid test
1 dead car battery
A diagnosis of 3 likely sleep disorders
1 referral to a sleep specialist
4 laxative pills and 2 jugs of Gatorade and 1 bottle of Miralax
1 binge-watch of the entire first season of Imposters, in 1 (literal) sitting
1 power outage
1 power restoration
1 power surge
3 loud noises from 3 different major appliances, simultaneously
1 more power outage
2 phone calls to the power company and 1 honest service rep telling me that because my snapped wire affects only me, it will be days before it is repaired (because there has been nearly 300,000 people without power)
3 (and counting) nights away from home
2 days of school closure (reminding us all that while our schools might be in distance learning, they have been, in fact, “open”–and if you don’t believe me, read the comments on the district’s FB page from those angry about the closure)
4 (of 9) school buildings in my district closed to staff for the rest of the week because of storm damage
0 devices at my disposal capable of supporting a Zoom call
<24 hours before I need to work again
After the power went out again, and I packed my suitcase for a second time to go stay at Cane’s place, and my school district announced its closure for the next day I found myself feeling what seemed to be unreasonably fragile and angry: I had heat, water, electricity, a warm bed, and no expectation to work the following day. I was better off than many of my fellow Oregonians—not to mention my Midwest friends dealing with sub-zero temperatures and, I guess, the entire population of Texas. (How does one manage with freezing temps, no power, no water, and frozen sewage pipes?)
And still, teetering on the edge I was.
It’s all just been so much, hasn’t it?
I have a “normal” post in my drafts folder, almost ready to share with you. “Normal” means on a topic that has nothing to do with climate change, freak and life-threatening weather, political insurrection, contested elections, wildfires and toxic air quality, or pandemic. It just doesn’t feel like the right time for normal, though. Maybe by the weekend, or next week.
So, this is just a check in from the dumpster-fire of the past week (year?). By the numbers. (We all like to be data-driven now, right?)
Things aren’t good, but they are good enough. Somewhere in the midst of power going off and on and off again–maybe on the day that ice rained from trees and power lines like gemstone bullets, trapping us on one side of our windows–the hyacinths on my kitchen table silently stretched into full bloom.
Stay safe out there.