The chronic malcontent visualizes whirled peas

Howdy, Blogbots. How's it going? Are we there yet? Where's there? I mean, have we made it to hell yet? Sure feels like we'll be there soon, the way things are going.

My tiny parched brain doesn't know what to think anymore. I've given up thinking. Thinking is highly overrated. Even a worm can think. I think. I've decided thinking gets me nowhere. I'm done with feeling too, have I mentioned that? No more feelings. Thinking and feeling, I'm done.

What's left? Besides sitting like a blob in front of Facebook? Well, thanks for asking. These days my new diet is action. For example, today I went for a walk in the park for a half hour. I would have gone further, but my toe hurts. Guess I haven't managed to stop feeling completely. Darn it.

Yesterday I took my computer to be upgraded with a new hard drive. I tried not to feel anything as I dropped off my baby (a heavy, bulky, black desktop tower) at a computer repair outfit in North Portland. Withdrawals set in on the drive home. Within an hour, I was feeling a lot of feelings. Anxiety and fear, mostly, as I imagined that the computer repair guy (who seemed like a perfectly nice young man) had downloaded all my data and would soon be draining my bank accounts.

Today I picked up the upgraded computer. He showed me how fast it was before he unplugged it from his shop monitor. I didn't hear much; I was mesmerized by the image of my sister's smiling face on the screen. My desktop wallpaper is set to show photos. I have many thousands of photos. I felt a bit like I'd taken off my clothes in public and pranced around naked. No, I have no naked pictures on my computer, it's not that. It just felt like a weird invasion to see my private family photos on the computer geek's monitor.

The old hard drive remains in the belly of the beast, a ghost frozen in a moment in time, available in case this new solid state hard drive fails. My life as of yesterday, encased in amber, as it were.

Summer swept back into town today with the east wind. The recent rains reined in the Eagle Creek Fire somewhat, so I smell no smoke on the air today. So lovely. I get why people move here. Tomorrow we'll have one more day of lovely warm breezy summer air, and then the rains will return. Back down into our burrows we'll go. I get why people leave this town after a few winters.

I brought the demented scrawny maternal parental unit some gluten-free chocolate chip cookies. That made her smile. I hope they don't tear up her innards. She's been doing better in the diarrhea department, thanks for asking. Next week she has a dental appointment to get her six teeth cleaned. We discussed underpants strategy. It's odd to talk diapers with my mother. I don't mind if I say something stupid like everything will be fine, because I know she'll forget it in five minutes.

My neighbor, a quiet young man named Everett, got a girlfriend. Lindsey is not quiet. She's a door slammer. She's not angry. She's just active. Maybe I can learn from Lindsey—action is my new magic word, after all. Although stomping isn't really my thing. Still, I can tell by the way she lets her closet door slam that she's a liberated spirit. I want to be a liberated spirit. I'm not sure what that entails, but it sounds like fun. I wonder if Lindsey does much thinking and feeling. A couple weeks ago, as I was walking back from the park I noticed she had left her house keys in her front door. I politely knocked and pointed out the keys hanging from the doorknob. Then I introduced myself. That is how I know her name. Otherwise we probably would never have met. I hear her slam doors and stomp around, but I never see her. She's a noisy ghost.

I finally bought a new keyboard. The old one was full of cat hair and detritus. The spacebar often got stuck, which is not great for accurate editing. I replaced it with a cheap one, like the cheap one I had. The only difference is, I left the new keyboard in the plastic cover. Ha. I know you can buy keyboard covers, and if this thing falls apart, I guess I'll get one. Meanwhile, I'm typing on plastic. It's got a distinctive plat plat sound. Since I got it, I can see the dents over the keys I use the most. That spacebar really gets a workout. And the C and V keys. Probably copy and paste. And the D key for some reason. Don't know what that is all about. The main problem with typing on plastic is the shine. I can't see the keys. On the best of days, I'm not a great keyboarder. Sometimes I just shut my eyes and type. Remember, it's all about action, Blogbots.

The chronic malcontent can't breathe

The wind turned again and brought the pall of smoke from the Eagle Creek Fire back to Portland. Last night the smell of smoke woke me. I got up and closed the windows I could reach in the dark. I feel sick imagining that I'm breathing the ashes of dead animals and burned up trees. It's beyond campfire smell. This is the smell of running for your life. This is the smell of the end of days. My chest is heavy. My sinuses are clogged. I want to throw open the windows to bring in some fresh air, but the air is cutting up my throat.

Good news, rain is on the way. Tomorrow with any luck, a bit of rain will wash the smoke out of Portland skies and start to tamp down the fire that rages 40 miles away. So far, over 40,000 acres have burned—not the biggest wildfire in the state, but certainly the one with the stupidest origin: fireworks set off by an oblivious self-centered teen. The fire has burned a few structures, a couple homes, shut down the highway for days, and forced hundreds of people to evacuate their pets and livestock. Right now, the fire is about 35% contained.

Bad news, the rain will drench hillsides barren of any growth, and all those dead trees and debris will slide down the steep hillsides to end up in creeks and across roads. I hope not in anyone's backyard, but gravity does what it will.

Meanwhile, life goes on, despite the disasters, natural and human-caused, that seem to pick at my fragile serenity. It's always some damn thing, isn't it? The airbag light won't go off. Sleekly sluggish giant rats come to feed at my bird feeder (can we say Lyme Disease?). My mother's diarrhea plague persists. The new wheelcover (replacing the one broken by the tire company when they sold me new tires) rubs against my wheel, click, click, click. My computer glasses no longer quite work because my arms got shorter or something. Dang it.

The poorly paying editing jobs stack up like planes circling Laguardia. The keyboard space bar sticks because of all the cat hair under the keys. One of my molars repeatedly shudders at cold or hot, bringing up visions of root canals and crowns. That's just stuff in my tiny parched world. Expand the lens out a few hundred feet and it's enough to make a person want to move to Mexico.

In fact, if things keep going here the way they've been going, I wouldn't be surprised to see the trickle of ex-pats moving south become a full torrent of people seeking asylum from Make America Great Again. The place is getting a little too damn great for me.

Oh, poor me, I live in the richest country on earth. Poor me. Of course, I'm not rich, but somewhere here, there are rich people, I'm pretty sure. I don't happen to know any, but I'm sure they are around somewhere. Not that they would do anything for me if they saw me on the street with my hand out, but I'm sure they donate to good causes. I get solicitor calls all the time for a woman who lives on the west side of town who happens to share my name. Somehow my phone number got attached to her address. I know she donates to many good causes. Good people are out there. Even though I'm pretty sure she also voted for Trump.                 Dang it, there goes the space bar again. Hold on, I gotta hit it to make it stop adding extra spaces. There.

I'd like to take a deep breath and start the day over, but the air in here is just a bit smoky. I hope when I wake tomorrow, the rain is pouring and the smoke is gone. I hope we all find freedom from suffering and the flies finally abandon my kitchen. I hope my airbag light magically goes off and I can go for a walk in the rain.