Life in the Time of Corona #8

April 7, 2020, Day 29 in hiding from the Federales: 2nd straight day of beautiful Southcoast weather in Onset.

An OB Free Post: In response to my lovely wife’s admonitions, today’s post will (other that this) be free of my typical OB blathering. She wants something a little more personal. Let’s see how that goes…

Won’t You Be My F-ing Neighbor?: According to David Muir, who delights in the America Strong segment which closes most of his broadcasts, neighborhoods all over the world are all out singing and dancing from their windows and porches every night and day (reminiscent of instinctual pre-historic attempts to ward off evil spirits?). So is anyone singing in Onset? Not that I’ve seen. Not a single melodic note. Just people walking their stupid dogs (I wish I had a stupid dog to walk). Come on, people, get it together. Don’t any of you own a guitar?

All Hands on Deck: Certainly one of the benefits of being cooped up all day is that we can finally tackle all those “projects” we pretend we really want to do but secretly hope we never have to do them. Case in point, our side deck. The wood floor is rotting is some places and I would prefer that, once we’ve all been taken down off the cross (shameless reference to yesterday’s blog), and we have friends and family back to visit, they don’t all bust through the floor, lacerate their femoral arteries and die. Besides potential lawsuits, intense anger and extreme sadness, who wants to throw a wet blanket on a good post-Corona party? That being said, I began ripping up the floorboards and ordered new pressure treated flooring on-line, for delivery Thursday. Hopefully I can convince Evan to give me a hand. You may be wondering why we’re not getting one of those composite floors, like Trex. Good question. The answer is: a) It’s too expensive, b) It’s too expensive, c) It’s too expensive, or d) We don’t expect to live long enough for the new floor to rot, bust through and lacerate a friends femoral artery.

Be careful of that first step, it’s a doozy.

Speaking of Back Breaking Work: The whole process of ripping up a deck is a little more difficult than you might think. Demolition always looks fun on HDTV. But in real life, not so much. If you doubt me, just ask my hammer…

Not the best picture to market Stanley Tools.

CATS: No, not the Broadway show. Real cats. Real cats who have recently decided to visit us here in Onset. To jump up on our fence. To sit outside our door. To climb up on our f-ing roof!!! Many of them in fact. Black, black with white paws, tigers, calicos. What the hell is going on? Is it an opposite-Corona feline thing where they need to have less than six feet of separation? Are they all boy cats courting our girl cats? This is new to me. Help. I feel like I’m in a Top Cat cartoon.

But where’s Officer Dibble?

And On a Side Note: I know I promised an OB Free Zone, but I couldn’t help but notice that Stephanie Grisham is leaving her job as White House Press Secretary without ever holding a White House Press Conference. At a salary of about $180,000 a year, that is now officially the highest paid job in the world where you aren’t expected to do anything. At all. You do nothing. And you get $500 a day. Nice.

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