A Duck Tape Life

...I have things I need to get off my chest, but I'm at a loss on where to start, so it might get random.

...This work schedule isn't so bad -- unless you aren't a fan of 2 Mondays, 2 Fridays and a Wednesday. I feel tied down when I'm off because Katie is working, and when she's off, I'm working and we can't fart around town. Part of that is due to Covid-19 constraining all things retail because if we weren't still cautiously hunkered down we'd be at Who Gives a SCRAP or Goodwill spending money I don't have. Usually the calls during the week are light -- if any as I sit on the sidelines of the over flow que. Weekends I get to talk to all sorts of people while maintaining a steady flow of knitting, TV watching and internet surfing. When put like that, it's not too bad.

...I will bitch, though -- holiday pay, or lack thereof. This is a three day weekend, Memorial Day is Monday. And although the Federal Government recognizes it, my employer does not. It's just status quo -- and you're lucky you have a job, and if it's not busy you can get cut hours earlier. That seems archaic to me (and everyone who hears about it).

...I'm still knitting -- dishcloths and the occasional string bag, but

my interest is waning. Maybe it's the yarn fumes of yarns purchased long ago with good intentions that are calling to me. Maybe my hands are dry and the cotton yarn of late is sucking up whatever natural moisture was to be had -- I don't know. I haven't picked up anything new, and if my desk drawer and purse are any indication, I haven't given up the status quo just yet.


...We Zoom called last night - those of us who didn't bug out for the weekend. I love my family. We are pretty well put together all things considered. But for the love of Mike, some of them are a hot mess who monopolize the entire session like they are on Dr. Phil. I get that everyone has problems -- hell, I have problems, but you wouldn't know that because I can't get a word in edgewise. I'm frustrated (but hide it better than Dad does). I'd like to tell them about the people I talk to with Covid who are scared out of their minds, being hospital workers or pregnant women or have finally returned to work after 20 days in the ICU with lasting heart and respiratory difficulties. I'd like to tell them about waking up broken hearted again, after a (rare) Michael dream. I'd like to complain collectively about the prices of groceries and the idiots who refuse to mask up for the consideration of others. I'd like to open the doors to Liz's World, but no one cares. Maybe it's because I'm a master of keeping it to myself. Maybe it's because I don't need anyone to run my life -- I do need someone to listen. I'm keeping it together but golly do I need someone. It really hits home how much I miss Michael. Even if he called me on my shit, it meant he'd heard me.

...For the time being, I'm holding it together with Duct tape and it doesn't feel like living as much as existing. There's got to be more to life than that.


...Liz out.