Keep the Coffee Comimg

I’ve definitely gone over the edge. I have been reduced to watching really bad science fiction movies and eating fruit. I just had a plum. I can’t even remember the last time I ate a plum. I think I was ten (okay, I don’t know. That was made-up, the ten year old me and the plum). Where are the brownies? Where are the chocolates? Why does everything I bought say certified organic? What is wrong with me?

The sun was around when I woke up, but it has since disappeared and has been replaced by clouds. Thunderstorms are predicted. The house is still cool. The AC has become a perpetual motion machine of sorts ( I know there isn’t a perpetual motion machine, something about thermodynamics. This is a metaphor). I wonder what Henry thinks when he comes inside to the cool house from the really hot outside. He must think me a magician.

I need milk and bread. Buying bread and milk whether you need them or not is usually an indicator of a coming storm, a storm of epic proportions, but I figure that’s just a coincidence. 

My cream can last one more day. My freezer is full. I just have to defrost the meat. Somewhere in the depths of my freezer is a rib eye that came from the organic store. I figure it means the cow ate grass. I have veggies and potatoes.

It is time go the dump, but I’m saving that fun run for tomorrow. I’ll also go to Ring’s for a few items and to Agway for a few plants to replace the dead deck flowers. What shall I wear? A summer dress with low slung heels? Yes indeedy, I have gone over the edge.

This is it, my wit’s end. I am watching a Hallmark Christmas movie. The main character just wished for snow on Christmas Eve. I’m with her!

I went out yesterday. I finished my only errand then added one other stop to soothe my body and spirit, the chocolate store. I chatted with the owner a bit then carefully made my choices: small peanut butter cups, two chocolate truffles and two dark chocolates with marshmallow and caramel.

Today is hot again. It is 89˚ and the high will reach 91˚. A thunderstorm is predicted. I really hope so.

I’m watching the worst movie, Sharkansas Women’s Prison Massacre. Their jail outfits are short, short dungaree shorts and midriff white t-shirts. One prisoner has already been eaten. They think she escaped even though they found her bloodied white shirt. So far that’s been a high point for this movie.

When I make temporary lists, I use sticky paper and press the lists to my table here in the den. Right now the only list I’m working on is for groceries. I also keep notepaper on the table for more permanent jottings like movies I want to watch, books I’d like to read, recipes I want to make and anything else I figure I’d forget otherwise.

Yesterday I spoke to Grace, one of my former students, to wish her a late birthday. She lives in Accra but spends far more time in Bolga. It is the rainy season in Bolga. Grace said it had rained all the day before. I loved the rainy season. It was like a miracle unfolding. I watched the parched ground become dirt again and the fields green. The compound behind my disappeared when the millet grew tall. In the market, tomatoes and onions made their reappearances. The nights felt cooler. All three times I have been back to Ghana it was during the rainy season.

It is another stay at home day. I’m happy for it.

It happened yesterday. We hit 90˚. I missed it as I’ve been inside the house staying cool. Right now I’m even wearing a sweatshirt. I could turn the AC down, but I won’t because the house gets hot so quickly, and I love feeling cold.

I read the papers intently. That takes up a good amount of morning time and two cups of coffee. I gave up on the news channels. Beside being repetitive, they are dour. Mostly I watch movies. I like hearing the voices. Sometimes I even pay attention to the action.

Henry is driving me crazy with his barking. I have to go open the front door so he can there is no one outside and no cars on the street. He then quiets down for a good 5 or 10 minutes then he’s up again aimlessly roaming. Right now he is sleeping on the tile floor in the kitchen. I figure he is nice and cool.

Last night I had scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. It was delicious. Earlier, I had taken hamburger out of the freezer, but it still wasn’t defrosted so I went with the eggs. I wasn’t disappointed. I yummed.

Every morning in Ghana I had two fried eggs and two pieces of toast for breakfast. I also had really bad coffee. The eggs were fried in groundnut oil, peanut oil to us, and the toast was slathered with margarine, not butter. Over time I came to love that breakfast, and I even enjoyed the coffee. I think my tastebuds had disappeared in the heat.

My gas tank is filled, and I have money in my pocket, but that means little these days. I seldom drive beyond a few miles close to home. I shop on-line for my groceries. A delivery of fresh fruit and produce is scheduled in a couple of days. It is a new service for me. They even sent a brightly colored chart showing how to store fruit and veggies. I moved my lemons to the counter.

When I ask Alexa the weather, she gives me the facts. Right now it is 87˚. The high will be 89˚. When I ask Google, who lives in my kitchen, he usually gives me a bit more. This morning he added this tidbit: with the humidity, the temperature will feel like 100˚. I will attest to the accuracy of that. When I went to get my papers and first stepped into the heat, I gasped. I started walking, but the glare of the sun was so great I could barely keep my eyes open. I did the old step and stop. It worked.

The longer I’m alone in the house, the more I talk to Henry, but last night I noticed he has stopped listening. He even escapes to my bedroom to nap on the bed. I don’t blame him.

When I was a kid, Duke, our boxer, was not allowed on the furniture, but that didn’t deter him. He slept on the couch most nights and got off in the morning when he heard footsteps. His dog food back then had horse meat. It was gross, but feeding Duke was easy. Just open two cans and plop them into the dog dish. Done! Duke occasionally got dog biscuits, Milk Bone. He also got scraps from the table and bones. He got Oreos from my two sisters. He knew which family members to stand near for the best treats. Back then we didn’t know about some bones and some food being bad for dogs, but Duke survived and lived a long life. He was fifteen when he died.

All my dogs eat the best food. Henry gets a cup of food in the morning, dried food. In the evening he gets a can. The canned food looks so good I swear people would eat it over rice or mashed potatoes. His treats too are healthy. He gets all sorts of them including Mother Hubbard Biscuits. He likes all Mother’s flavors. He loves Bully Sticks. I buy the big bag. I won’t talk about the price. I’ll just mention Henry loves them. He also likes fruits and vegetables. He is partial to bananas and apples. I always share mine.

Today is Sunday. It will be a no chore day, a no errand day because there’s nothing left. I went to the dump on Wednesday, and my house got cleaned on Thursday. I don’t even have enough laundry to start feeling guilty about not doing it.

It just got cloudy, but Mother Nature is toying with us. They’ll be no rain until maybe Tuesday.

Today is another day of sun and heat. Alexa told me the high will be 84˚ and the low 73˚. The outside temperature is 83˚ right now, while my house is a chilly 70˚. The AC has been cranking since yesterday afternoon.

As pretty as today is, I’ll be staying close to home. I don’t need anything though I would like a few more perennials to fill open spots in the front garden. As for house chores, I’m going to water the deck plants and count myself accomplished.

Testing and long lines of cars and people waiting, tents, refrigerator trucks and hospitals at full capacity sound like the beginning of a science fiction movie, a very scary movie.

The Governor of the Commonwealth, Charley Baker, has announced new rules for entry into Massachusetts starting August 1st. Travelers from states where there is currently a high count of covid will be quarantined for two weeks unless they can show proof of negative results from COVID-19 tests taken no longer than 72 hours prior to their arrival in Massachusetts.

I watched the Red Sox last night. Their bats were hot. They beat the poor Orioles, even more hapless than the Sox, 13-2. During the game ambient crowd noise was played in the background. When there was a hit or a run scored, the crowd cheered. It sounded like a real game with thousands in the stands happy to welcome baseball home. It doesn’t get eerie until the cameras pan the stands and you see all the empty seats.

I know it is only the beginning of the politicking, but I’ve already had enough of television ads.

I’m dressed as much as I’m going to be. I’m defrosting dinner. My fridge is loaded, and I have bread. In my own hapless way, I’m ready for today.

The windows and doors are open. It is a bit cooler at 78˚ so I’m airing the house. Thundershowers are predicted for this afternoon. I’ll finish here and hurry to take my shower, my outside shower, before it rains. On second thought, why should rain make a difference?

Today is another lazy day because my only chores are to water the inside plants and repot a couple. I also need to take dinner out of the freezer. What will I choose? I’m leaning toward ground beef. I”ll figure the rest out later.

A spawn of Satan scared the heck out of himself and Henry. I let the dog out, but, unbeknownst to me, there was a spawn on the steps. It saw Henry first, and the spawn took off but fell in its haste to get away from Henry who finally saw the spawn running and took off after him. I could hear the rustling of the bed of leaves in the backyard then it was quiet. I knew the spawn had climbed out of danger. Henry, the defeated hunter, came home. I gave him a snack. It took out a bit of the sting out his ineptitude.

I can hear the birds and nothing else. Henry hasn’t barked once, an indicator that no marauders have gone by my house. Yesterday he barked so much he drove me crazy. The front door was shut because of the AC so he couldn’t see who was making the noise which had caught his attention. The back door was also shut so he couldn’t go out on his own to investigate. I had to keep getting up and letting him out at every bark. He barked wolf more than not though twice he barked at deliveries. Henry wanted his final out around 1:30. All he did was step to the deck, two steps down, look around the yard then turn around to come back inside. I was there at the door waiting to let him in because every night Henry checks the backyard before we go to bed.

Despite the wind, today is another hot day, another humid day. The sun comes and goes. Rain, scattered showers, is predicted for tonight. Right now it is already 85˚. Tonight will be in the mid 60’s. I need to find my down jacket!

I’m sitting here chilling in the cool house for the third or fourth day. I only venture into the outside world to finish an errand or two. Yesterday I made it to the dump. It was busy. I next went to Ring’s Grocery. It was also busy. I bought bread, lemonade, hummus, a piece of chocolate cake, tabbouleh, a Milky Way and a couple of dog biscuits. I must have figured the hummus and tabbouleh negated the cake and candy bar.

Each day I’ve had insightful, witty, intelligent observations about my small world and the greater world outside the front door. I tell Henry about everything. He’s unimpressed unless I add the word treat.

I have given up watching the news channels today; instead, I am watching a movie called Six Underground.

Today is baseball’s opening day. My poor Red Sox look a bit hapless this year. They traded the best, Mookie, and their pitching staff lacks pitchers. I watched one game and parts of another the last couple of days. The Sox were playing the Blue Jays. They are worse off than the Sox. They don’t yet have a home field. Canada doesn’t want them back home after they’ve come from here.

I cut lumps off Jack yesterday. I used the recently sharpened scissors. They glided through the fur, and Jack didn’t care enough to move. A couple of weeks ago I cut the tips off Henry’s nails. I had Lee, half of my cleaning couple, hold each paw while I cut the nails. Henry didn’t mind.

I have nothing to do. I don’t even have a wash I can moan about. Today is house cleaning day. All I have to do is hold up my feet on request. I think I’ll rest up before hand.

The air conditioner is still blasting. I am still hearing voices. It is still hot.

The temperature is 82˚. The high will be 86˚. My to do list is short: go to the dump. Sound familiar? Going to the dump has taken over the top spot as most disliked chore. The laundry has slipped to number two. Going to the dump means hauling or dragging to the car and trunk the heavy trash bags, the recycle bags, the empty boxes and whatever else is hanging around waiting to be tossed, like the barbecue cover destroyed by spawns. This morning I brought out a couple of trash bags when I picked up the papers. I’ll go to the dump this afternoon. I’ve backed myself into the corner. I have no choice now. There’s a trash bag already in the trunk.

I was on the deck late yesterday afternoon. The air was still and humid. I sat for a bit to take in the day then I watered all the deck and strawberry plants. Henry was out with me. He kept running into the yard then back up to the deck and then back again. When he started panting, we went inside. It was cold.

When I was a kid, I never watched the news on TV. I don’t even think my parents did. We got the newspaper every day, but the only part of the paper I read was the funnies. My town was my entire world. I knew every part of it. I had ridden my bike all over town for years. I knew all the best spots. I never got tired or bored. I always brought my lunch. My favorite sort of picnic stop was on a bench under the trees by the town hall.

People are renting next door. Henry barks when they go out and he barks when they come back. This will be a long week.

(Sorry for the late posting, but my computer wasn’t playing nice, and Henry was barking. I had to keep checking the front to see why he was barking. Twice I had packages but all the other times it was a dog crying wolf.)

The last few days I have been hearing voices. I stop working, mute the TV and listen. The voice is low, the words are jumbled. The first time I heard the voice I walked through the house and found nothing. Since then, I’ve heard the voices a few more times.

I learned a new word yesterday, pareidolia. It is when one hears patterns in random data and interprets them as music and conversation. Fans, rushing wind, air conditioners and the drone, the hum, on board a plane in flight are some causes. My air conditioner has been on for the last two days. I am not crazy. I am not hearing voices.

Yesterday I was busy. I finally cleared the dining room of the deck furniture covers I had brought inside before it rained one day last week. I found a bin under the deck, emptied it and then filled it with the covers. The filled bin was so heavy I had to push it from the house to the deck where it sits. Today I’ll slide the bin down the outside stairs to put it back under the deck. I swept the kitchen and dining room. I folded the clean laundry and put the last of the wash into the dryer where it still sits waiting for me. Henry is also waiting as his fluffy couch cover was washed.

This morning I opened the screen door to get the papers, and, as soon as I stepped out, a Ghana moment leapt from my memory drawers. Because I wanted every bit of that moment, I shut the door behind me and stood on the steps. I could feel the rhythm of the day. Today’s morning air reminded me of every morning of the dry season in Ghana when the mornings felt comfortable, but you knew the afternoons would be blistering.

Tropical is today’s word of the day. The TV weatherman used it a few times in his forecast this morning to describe today and tomorrow. The humidity will be stifling. It is currently 81%, but the air conditioner is keeping the house cool and dry.

My den window gives me a peek at the outside world. I can see the blue sky and bouts of sunshine. I can watch the big branches of the oak trees being tossed by a now and again wind. I saw the day get dark when the sun disappeared behind a cloud, but the sun came back. It keeps doing that, going and coming. I keep watching.

I’m reading two books, one upstairs and another downstairs. Upstairs I read my iPad while downstairs my book is substantial. One book is a mystery while the other book is science fiction. Interesting to me is those two genres would also have been my choices when I was ten.

I still need to go to the dump. I keep postponing the inevitable because I truly hate going to the dump. Seriously, why would I like loading the car with trash and bags of recycles then going to the dump to unload said trash in three or four spots?

The dump is a vast wasteland behind and beyond the recycle and trash bins. In the winter, the wind whips across. I always think of the dump when its windy and cold as the tundra, the steppes. This time of year the sun is so bright I can’t see when I first get out of the car. I stand by the car door a bit and wait for my eyes to adjust. When I can see, I start emptying at the recycle bins then move on to the trash. It never takes very long. Sometimes, when I’ve finished with this ordeal, I reward myself with a Dunkin’ ice coffee and a donut. It’s on the way home.