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I'm bored of me

Claudine Jones-Scene4 Magazine

Claudine Jones

It's hot.

Windows are open, pretty good cross breeze but still, I took off my watch because it's getting all sweaty. Nice watch. Dates back to when my youngest first got a job and felt the need to buy presents for everybody at Christmas. I got a watch. I have to admit I thanked him and may have worn it for short time but then sort of lost track of it—I'm not the only one who has multiple timepieces. But late last year I expect I was looking for something else and ran across it, popped a battery into it—I'm very organized in my batteries I have to say—and kind of been wearing it ever since. All through the recent unpleasantness.

Did you know that they cut off your clothes in ambulances? Yes they do. But they didn't cut my watch off they just removed it and put it in a ziplock with my earrings, where it languished for a couple months, till it was unearthed—a lot of random confusion as an injury aftermath. We thought we lost one of 2 orange panties which for some reason certain people really like, and so they were sorry when we thought the ambulance guys cut that up, but it turned out it wasn't. It was one of the black undies.

But enough about watches and undies. What the heck else is going on? Have seen some amazing original work on Hulu and Netflix Etc—o my lord Rectify, the best thing we've seen in a looong time—and really have come to appreciate the regularity of my routine. My caregiver who also happens to be a guy I've slept with on many occasions over the last 33 years, brings me my breakfast in the morning so that I don't have to struggle downstairs. I sit up and look at the news on my tablet, quietly say fuck that shit and switch to reruns of some old shows—right now it's Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I'm also in season 4 of 3rd Rock from the Sun.  Got to be that way, it just has to:  that fine balance between decimation from all of the assaultive news and delight of a deliberate mood lightener.

After breakfast we do half an hour of physical therapy exercises. This then usually brings me in any case to various choices see above, but I also can grab my knitting as long as it's not terribly intricate. Maybe listen to some more of Wolf Hall. SPOILER I still can't get over Anne Boleyn's head chop, I never see it coming. And then as we proceed closer to 1 p.m., I wait for the call to come downstairs to have our main meal. Recently I've actually been the person in charge of griddling! Since this involves a minimal amount of standing and I have a lovely hydraulic stool that I can sit on in the kitchen for prep, and a typical piece of salmon takes a minute and a half, and a pork cutlet 3 1/2 minutes...well there you go Bob's your uncle.

I have to have a nap. Depending on how efficacious my nighttime CBD gummy was, it's not much of a nap, but man is it delicious. I'm done with guilt on that. The only time I've really have felt what could be called remorse over naps is back when my kids were little. Like the time I spent all weekend in bed by myself, listening to them downstairs rattling around the house. If there was no blood curdling scream I figured it was all good. Or like, after my 10 year high school reunion I didn't get back home until close to 3:30 a.m. because I had a long way to drive. My late husband decided to use that Sunday to go to the hardware store, I suspect that he did not have anything on a list, but just couldn't stand to be around me for jealousy of me being at my high school reunion with my old boyfriend. So the whole time he was out I was prone on the couch in the living room. I remember somebody very short coming along and patting me, pulling my hair a little bit. But I was so tired I just slept through it.

Then I have to have my Xarelto, with food, so 6 p.m. is supper. This is a light meal. I have no idea what we're going to have because I'm not the one that goes to the store or does meal planning. I like being surprised. Over the months though it has come to be pretty clear that sandwiches are the order of the day. Why not? They're easy. Yeesh, we've also been going through the food that we scavenged out of my mother's old apartment when we moved her last month. So could be a random soup. Mostly done with that. But Oh God the discovery of reduced guilt Trader Joe's potato chips. Damn.

Then maybe a short walk before getting to our latest binge-watch.

It's a great time of year.

[Uh oh. Just got a text from #2 son who lives in the basement apartment:]

there's a full on yellowjacket nest on the deck


right by the open door

i went in to drop off an egg [chickens are laying again!] and i was like WHOA there are about 50 suckers sort of swarming around low down

might want to close the door

maybe once the sun goes down? ill take a look...im scared of those guys

That's fine

Has Sam got his windows open [son #1 living in the room off the kitchen]


ill tell him


Yeah tell him

Should close up the kitchen in case they come in

i closed it

[thumbs up]

that explains why they were coming in while u guys were playing monopoly yesterday [new 6th grader grandson after minimum day, hanging out, with the current dictum from his mom: no screens after school=get to watch a movie after dinner, hence Monopoly!]

i think they made a home in that aquarium [old item on deck full of dirt and decorative rocks—failed project]

[link to effective non toxic solution for getting rid of yellow jackets with diluted Dr. Bronner peppermint soap and boiling water]


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Claudine Jones has had a long career as an Actor/Singer/Dancer.
She writes a monthly column and is a Senior Writer for Scene4.
For more of her commentary and articles, check the Archives.

©2019 Claudine Jones
©2019 Publication Scene4 Magazine



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