quarantined-ish day 28

Quarantined-ish Day 28
Tuesday, April 14, 2020 - OKC, OK

7:12am
Just got home from baking things at Elemental. Oh Susanna (I added the “Oh” because obviously) got there early, so I shared the space with her for twenty minutes or so. She’s hispanic and my high school Spanish is twenty-seven years old, so the language hiccups are comical sometimes.

notes:
*putting the baking sheets by the sink
me: Oh Susanna, those…. (she doesn’t hear me and starts to grab them)
me again (in an alarmingly rapid manner): Oh Susanna, caliente caliente caliente!!!
Oh Susanna (laughing): Oh Adi…
me (now, also laughing): Yeah, they really should’ve made such an important word shorter.

*asking about her family
me: Oh Susanna, is your husband staying well?
Oh Susanna: Si. Es good. Si. Thank you Adi.
me: Oh good. So he still is able to work?
Oh Susanna (steering an imaginary semi through the kitchen): Si. Yes. He alone. Driving 18 wheeler still.
I definitely got in my car and played Alabama’s Roll On Eighteen Wheeler all the way home.

7:56am
Breaking news from Contagion is a welcome distraction from my impending work and another IJP letter. I allow myself 15 minutes (knowing I’ll take 20) to indulge before setting up for class.

8:45am
IG live on for my YAT students. Things I still haven’t mastered the past few weeks: how to not give so many crotch shots, how to keep my ponytail under control, and how to put my clothes on right side out. That last one is not new, but it’s accurate.

12:29pm
Worked until Wendy text to walk dogs with her. They were especially psychotic today and we narrowly missed death by two texting drivers and one who didn’t realize that the road is best seen when you’re looking through your front window, not the back. Also, we definitely got a contact high from walking through a pot smoke cloud in the Plaza. Or we didn’t, and I can blame any typos on my hurried state or this brain-sucking letter. That cloud was thick and unyielding, though.

3:03pm
Trying to work, but the opportunity to become a pirate taunts me. I’ve ignored the message for over an hour, so I’ll call that a success. I grab my patch and open the article. Then I remember that reading is much easier without a patch, so I toss it. Or none of that happens, and I just click the link and take in the charm. It’s endearing and I do the prompts just for fun/procrastination.

5:16pm
How long should it take to write a letter from your yoga mat?!?! It seems like a quick and dirty task, but fuckity duckity doo, this is not coming together. Is it possible that there are too many words in my head? That this is the paradox of options? That I have so many choices that it’s impossible to actually choose? Only two things can fix this: dance it out or run it out, and it’s too cold outside right now.

6:01pm
Dance party interrupted to send a ridiculously long message about this morning’s Medium epiphany. I’ll bet my letter-writing yoga mat that he never asks me another question again.

7:44pm
The letter is done. My mat’s name is now Oliver, and I’m all out of words. Thanks, COVID.