Frivolous February, We Hardly Knew Ye….

What happened to February?

February, we hardly knew ye.

Except for some silly Valentine cards, flowers and candy—be you so inclined—and some oft overlooked federal holidays, Frivolous February has pretty much served as a place holder bridging the gap to Maddening March, when we can actually start smelling spring wafting in through the back-porch door.

Even if it’s only my neighbors very fragrant dryer sheets wafting across the driveway…and then in through the back-porch door.

But at least you can open the back-porch door in March…sometimes.

Not that February has been unkind; nope, not this year.

Around these parts, it’s made nary a whimper; not even a hint of snow or icy temps that I can recall.

Which, I suppose, is why it’s pretty much slipped our notice.

So, there’s that.

However, since I wanted to get an early start on the Retorting, this year, I disappointingly find myself knee deep into 2020 with nothing to show for it…as some are apt to rudely point out. Especially since I pulled that “here’s something under the wire” caper, at the end of January.

Some people were not very happy about that, having gotten themselves settled in for some full-fledged belly rolling retortage only to fall prey to some lazy, smart ass slight of verbiage.

Sorry about that; it seemed like a good ide at the time.

Still, the new federal guidelines in regard to excessive belly rolling content is scheduled to take effect, sooner rather than later, so I thought I’d better cut back.


Much as I predicted, back in December, 2020 has already been pretty eventful.

Maybe even a year’s worth of eventful.

We’ve already got one impeachment trial and acquittal under our belts with room for plenty more before the year is out.

However, since the ratings were a little less than anticipated, I understand the next one will be set to music, in the mode of a long running, block buster, Broadway play.

I hear they’re already working on a generic version of the original cast recording, with various offenses and counter offenses, along with a variety of defenses, to be added later, as they become available.

We’ve also had a number of presidential candidate debates, where the number of candidates outnumbered the voters in attendance and in some cases the state itself.  There’s also been several primaries and caucuses, which have only added to the confusion since apparently nobody is really sure what a caucus is, other than a weird night, hanging in a gym, passing out hot dogs and candy. One candidate, I won’t say who, was overheard saying, he or she—no clues, here—didn’t understand what all the fuss was about, especially over a big green prickly desert plant.

Luckily, we still have most of the year to sort it all out…sort of.

But, of course, the real BIG NEWS of 2020 is... Z retired from nursing after a thousand years of 4:45 AM alarm clock beeping and 5 hour sleeping…which, needless to say, has been a huge relief since I no longer have to lose 20 or 30 seconds trying to fall back into unconciousness every morning.

Right?

But Z seems to be enjoying it, as well.

Maybe even a little too much, especially since she’s way too young to be a “retired” person.

What does that even mean “RE-tired”?

It sounds as if it should mean a person who was previously tired, is now re-tired, all over again.

Which to be honest applies more to my lifestyle than Z’s.

I’ve been tired and re-re-r-e-re-re to infinity tired for several decades.

Which is manageable as long as I get my naps every couple of hours.

But Z is never tired, let alone re-tired. She’s barely 64—just past 9 in dog years—and still kicks off the blankets every morning, jumps out of bed, executes a perfect back flip and is raring to go.

And as long as she puts the blankets back on the bed and covers me up, I’m okay with that.

The lunches are better—tuna today—plus, the daily collection of dirty dishes accumulating in the sink situation has somehow mysteriously resolved itself.

But I’m pretty sure that’s mostly coincidental.

The funniest thing about this whole scenario are the folks who sidle up to me, mostly because watching people sidling is always funny.

But all sidling aside, the funniest part is all the folks who sidle up and secretly ask how I’m handling the whole situation of constant companionship, having spent the bulk of my freelance lifestyle locked away, pretending I’m doing something constructive, when I want, how I want, no matter what anyone else wants.

And my answer is…just fine.

Surprised?

Well, you shouldn’t be.

It’s actually pretty cool having Z around…all the time…everyday…day in…day out.

I mean as long as I stay on my side of the red line she’s painted down the middle of every room in the house.

And the lawyers say, I only have to sleep in the garage 5 out of 7 nights, for now.

But only when Z’s not home.

And that’s the thing…Z is not one to let the grass grow beneath her feet. Not when she’s out mowing it every 6 hours, even in the dead of winter.

She really can’t sit still very long; not without restraints.

Every closet in the house has already been cleaned and reorganized...three times.

And, one of these days, I figure I’ll stumble upon all my missing jeans and sneakers.

One of these days....

She’s already volunteering at the local animal shelter, teaching old dogs new tricks.

And I think today she’s out polishing the Statue of Liberty.  

She said all that green patina always annoyed her.

It should be good as new by the weekend.

Then I believe it’s on to straightening that pesky Tower of Pisa.

So, it’s not like I don’t have any time to myself to get the things done I need to do.

Somebody has to fill up the sink with dirty dishes.

It’s not easy keeping Z from getting bored….

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