Another week on the Zoom

I drive so rarely, my car decided it couldn't be bothered to start. I know the feeling. I often feel that way myself, like, what is the point? On Monday I forked over some money to the place up the street for a new battery. When I got my car back, it seemed to exhibit a new resolve, although the clock indicated it had somehow entered a different time zone. Being time-zone-challenged, I plan to use my usual approach: wait and see what happens. Perhaps the clock will reset itself. It's happened before. It's like when socks, or gloves, or keys go missing. They quite often reappear.

Speaking of things disappearing and reappearing, one of my friends has a poltergeist. My friend has had it for years. A thing goes missing. A needle and thread. A document. My friend searches like a mad person, can't find the thing. Eventually my friend gives up. Then the thing mysteriously returns, sometimes days later, suddenly appearing in plain sight. 

I don't have spirits following me around. Far as I know. I am glad about that. If you see a spirit following me, don't tell me.

So Monday's quest was to replace my car battery. Tuesday it rained (with thunder, lightning, and wind). I've already forgotten how that felt. It's a little preview of what comes in July. Wednesday I led a workshop to help artists figure out what art products they should sell. That was fun. A futile endeavor. It's always fun trying to herd cats. Mm, cats. Much rather be herding cats than teaching artists. 

On Thursday I decided I'd better get out of the Bat Cave. I walked to the local Goodwill. It was a twenty minute walk, mostly through a neighborhood of desert houses. Desert houses in the poor part of town are made of cinderblocks. The roofs are flat. Of course I can't see inside, but I imagine everyone is lying on the floor to escape the heat that pools under the low ceilings. Goodwill was small and moderately crowded. I was one of a few shoppers wearing a mask. Every time I go around others, I think, is it my turn? I've been careful, I've been lucky, I've dodged this thing for two years. Is my luck going to run out?

Friday was April 1, another good day for a walk. Does walking help? (Help with what, you might ask.) Who can say. Saturday was a day of phone calls. I praise the TV gods for SNL. Sunday was a day of Zoom meetings. The week is over. I am done.

My life seems to be a frayed slogfest of loose ends. I complete everything on my list, but the outcomes are unknown. For all those Zoom meetings, did I help anyone? I don't know. All that spraying of the insecticide in my kitchen, is it going to keep me safe? I doubt it. The new car battery, will it guarantee my car will start next time I turn the key? Can't be sure. I learned more about time zones last week, namely that Arizona is in its own private Idaho when it comes to time. Does anyone really know what time it is? Today I led a workshop on Zoom. People from multiple time zones attended. I am embarrassed to tell you how many tries it took me to get the correct time zones on the flyer.

I may not know what time it is, but I show up for life, that's the best I can say. I've just about given up on the idea that my life has meaning and purpose. It does if I say it does, but I'm sort of over it. Maybe it's just the vertigo. Maybe it's the high pressure building in, inviting me to get lost in blue sky. Today is over. Tomorrow will bring its own set of tasks and unknown outcomes. Sooner or later, I will be done.

 

Let me take you to noisy town

Happy new year, Blogbots, all six of you. How are you doing? I hope you are staying safe in this stupid cold season. Yes, cold. Tucson temps fell below freezing last night. For the past week, we've been socked in with clouds and rain. It felt like Portland in early November. Then the clouds rolled east, leaving clear skies. You know what happens in the desert at night: The temperature plummets. I can hear you say, Really, Carol? Plummets? When I say plummets, I know it's all relative. Some of you are in actual plummet-prone places. (Have I ever used the word plummets so many times in one paragraph?) I'm thinking Albuquerque. Minneapolis. I'll step aside; I can't compete. However, remember, I moved here for the famous warm winters! I've been checking the maps for someplace warmer and drier that doesn't involve moving to another planet.

Speaking of noise, fireworks! On New Year's Eve, the big vacant lot just over the cinder block wall on the far side of the parking area was the scene of some pretty impressive DIY displays. (I kept checking to make sure my car wasn't on fire.) I'm on the first floor, so I couldn't see much through the trees and the block wall, but my neighbors upstairs were on the parapet above me, oohing and ahhing at each explosion and glittery colorful burst. I imagine they were sitting in chairs, but I didn't go up the stairs to find out. I don't think I could have interacted with them without resentfully asking them to use their indoor voices after 10:00 p.m. Anyway, New Year's is a thing here. The fireworks were hammering the neighborhood from six o'clock until the taco dropped at midnight. (There really was a taco drop somewhere in Tucson, I'm not making that up.) By 12:30 a.m., everyone had shot their firecracker inventories. I'm sure that is when the heavy drinking started, but I was asleep by then, worn out by the noise. 

Today the sun was brilliant. I walked my usual 30-minute circuit, enjoying the balmy 60°F warmth and sunshine. In daylight, I glimpsed the house that is the source of the neighborhood party noise. The sub-woofer was still going. A pre-teen boy was dancing on the flat roof, I kid you not. Speaking of kids, I am going to guess this is the house that keeps chickens and a goat on the property. A rooster crows at odd hours of the day, and occasionally I hear a goat bleating. I'm so confused. Meanwhile, the pounding bass continues to pound. I can't hear it, but I can feel it in my decrepit bones. 

Anyway, happy ho ho and all that stuff. I'm trying to ignore the cacophony of noises in and around the Bat Cave. The neighbor kid's bedroom is on the other side of the wall, five feet from where I sit. She's got a television. My loaner refrigerator is drowning out most of her noise. The loaner fridge has a little drummer boy behind the ice box. Whenever the fan comes on, he sits up and does his clattery thing to awaken the defroster, and then goes back to sleep. The fan roars on for another hour. This is a very small apartment. The only way to escape a noise is by drowning it out with a bigger noise. But the granddaddy of noise comes from that house on the other side of the vacant lot. It's always party time in the Old Pueblo.

Speaking of confused, last night I went onto one of my websites to update the copyright year. My heart dropped when instead of my website, I saw the infamous white screen of death. Oh no! I suspected a plug-in had gone bad, failed to update or something, but I couldn't get into my admin area to deactivate the culprit. What's a non-tech-savvy oldster to do? Failure was not an option. I did some noodling around on the internet and remembered that my ancient computer still has an old ftp program, which I used to use to shuffle files hither and thither. Would it still work? Would I remember how to use it? 

I bashed around, trying to follow instructions from multiple web experts, and eventually stumbled on some solution. Lo, when I clicked the button, my website reappeared, resurrected from the dead. I was able to repair my plug-in problem and now things seem to be functioning properly. Such are the dilemmas of stubborn DIY oldsters who do not want to admit things are harder than they used to be. Not that I've ever been a tech wizard. I'm a fast reader, is all. 

For example, tonight I was leading a Zoom meeting. Suddenly we were inundated with Zoom bombers. For a moment I was paralyzed with shock. Then I realized I needed to find the host credentials and log on as the host. I did that, and eventually I figured out how to remove the trespassers. Someone advised me to lock the meeting. I did that, and after that, we carried on in peace and quiet. I've never been a Zoom host before but I learned quickly. I admit, I felt a certain amount of satisfaction in having the power to eject someone from a meeting. I can think of umpteen times over the years I wished I'd had that power. So long, bye bye. Of course, I'm sure lots of people wished they had that power over me.