Whenever there is a change in season I usually start to get restless, mostly just for a change of scene. A change is as good as a rest – well, maybe later after you’ve made the change, then you can rest. Making your apartment different takes a lot of work. Moving stuff around in a tiny crowded space is a challenge.

So, I moved some furniture around while cat supervised.

I got sweaty and tired, and did a good cleaning too. Actually got rid of a piece of furniture, a bench I made, that although I made it to last a thousand years (I could not get the thing apart!) it was mostly useless and hogging space. Not easy to discard stuff you make yourself, but sometimes you gotta.

And as usual, I experienced the same phenomena that happens every time I think I am making things better.

That is, I end up with many displaced items, wondering where the heck it all came from, and where the heck am I going to now put them?

Yeah, I know, a purge is a good move.

That is where the other strange phenomena happens.

I can discard bags of stuff, and I mean, BAGS of stuff, and nothing looks any different.

This time, there is a bit more space to walk around, in the living room, but now the bedroom has taken on the brunt of that.


Spring will come and I will do it all again. Move stuff from the bedroom back to the living room.

With the same results.

Is all good.


I have posted many rants about mask wearing, because to me, it is very simple. Covid is spread by your breath. Wear a mask and covid cannot go anywhere, and to some degree, prevents you from breathing in someone else’s covid. It has been proven in other countries to be very effective, and this whole mess could be over if everyone would just comply.


But humans, with their big, mostly useless brains, have made it an issue, and so complicated.

However, I have adopted a mask as part of my daily attire. Much like, I usually don’t go out without underware, kind of routine. I don’t think about it much, including the foggy glasses. It just is.

When you need to make a quick trip to the store, the fuss of how you look is eliminated. I don’t have to wear makeup or worry about bad breath. It hides a lot of ills. My friend says he doesn’t have to shave.

It also can make a fashion statement. I have seen some pretty ones, some clever ones, some very comfortable looking ones. And then there are the ugly ones, the ill fitting ones, the ‘I don’t give a F’ ones. My personal pet peeve is the below the nose mask. It aggravates me in the same way those pants worn at the hips do, I want to pull them up!

I watched a doctor on You Tube don one mask after another, up to 6, to prove you do not compromise oxygen transmissibility by wearing a mask. So when I had a biopsy done recently I wore 8 masks! I tell you truthfully, I had no trouble breathing. And since I had 2 surgeons hovering inches from my face, I felt a bit more secure. So a lot of the BS you read about ‘I can’t breathe’, is, well, BS.

So just wear a mask and enjoy the benefits, like, still being alive.

The World Looks Different Now

We used to joke about looking at the world through rose coloured glasses, until I worked for an optometrist and discovered this really is a thing. Not only that, a very desirable thing, as it can soothe eye strain and relieve headaches for some.

But today, I view the world through fog covered glasses. With a mask on my face, the lenses are perpetually fogged, and I’ve gotten used to it. Just one of those ‘givens’ we must adapt to. There are a lot of new ‘givens’ during the pandemic.

Some days I have little rain showers inside my glasses. Fog condenses, and it rains, droplets run down like tears. Sort of like being in a car with no windshield wipers. I’m moving forward, but with little idea of where.

When I used to go to the gym I was teased about being my own cloud burst, that is how hard I sweat. It spurted off me with little exertion on my part. I was a walking rain shower. Well, times have changed, and now the rain shower is scaled down to my glasses, with the same amount of minimal effort.

I leave my ‘smoky’ glasses on because they provide some additional protection, or so I have heard, and I can’t see great without them either. In fact, I have them tied around my head, because they keep falling off and you are not suppose to touch your face! Being so tethered, they are not accessible for the odd wipe, so there you go. The end result is, I basically just can’t see any more, and perhaps this is not so bad. There are a lot of things I’d rather not see. A lot of things I wish I had never seen.

Additional bonus, no one can see me now either! Glass-less persons can’t see my eyes, and those with lenses are just as fogged up as me. So none of us knows who we are or where we are going.

Zaphod Beeblebrox of the Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy fame, had glasses that automatically blackened at the first hint of danger. So, the pandemic has given me fog, with a light drizzle. Enough to soften and distort the world, but let me know shit is still happening.

Foggy glasses used to be embarrassing, and annoying, now it’s a new normal, and no one notices or cares, except if I bump into them.

Next week, some thoughts about masks.

That Voice

A great deal of my working days consisted of me yapping. Mom was right, I never lack for something to say. There were clients and staff to talk to in person, lots of phone calls, lots of conversations. My gums got a good work out.

Now that I am retired, having left my job because of covid concerns, my mouth has gotten a rest, and alas, many people, their ears.

I still talk, but the audience has changed.

I have great conversations with the cat, myself, the odd inanimate object, plants. They listen very well. They lack a bit for debate, but I think they tend to agree with my points of view anyhow. Cat just walks away or falls asleep in protest, disagreement or boredom. No arguments or shouting matches, just a nice disregard. I kind of like that. It is humbling. So far, the plants haven’t wilted, their leaves turn brown or fall off. My ornaments quietly collect dust as usual. So it is all good.

I read books and my own writing aloud. My apartment has some neat acoustics I hadn’t noticed before. My voice sort of like drums in a ventilator shaft, voluminous and rising to the sky, but not nearly as exciting as a drum solo from Led Zeppelin.

I can almost hear my neighbours groan on occasion. But when they get my flute practice sessions, they concur that perhaps my reading aloud in not so bad, well, not as bad. It just goes on a lot longer than the flute.

Being ones own audience is quite interesting; to laugh at ones own jokes, especially if they are not that funny, or not funny at all. Interesting to debate with oneself and have some pretty convincing arguments, make some nifty observations and get some startling insights. It is all very cool.

And I get to have whole 3 act plays with myself. I get to be the entire play! I write it, direct it, act in it, edit it. I can be very loud if the script calls for it. I end up laughing when I try to be dramatic. Laughter is the best sound my voice makes. Oh yeah, it is very loud too. Think maybe, barking seals. With clapping flippers.

I have to keep that booming voice fine tuned after all. I might need it some day, for a sermon or just to let everyone within 5 blocks know that I am still around. Perhaps I should have been a Sergeant Major like my Dad. Hmmm, maybe that’s where this voice came from. Ya think?

I am not much for making phone calls, the telephone was not my main way of communicating in the past. I tried to keep calls short and sweet.

Now I have marathons.

Before you call me, have your meal, pee break and a nap, because you’re in for a long session. Get comfy.

I’ll never be lonely as I can talk to most anything. Yes even rocks. Now there is a whole other story I will bore you with in a later blog.