Pink Sneakers on the Go

 It’s Week 18 in Loco Lockdown and it’s time to break free.  I’ve been sequestered for far too long.  Winter was just a flash of a distant memory and the sizzle of the lazy, hazy days of summer will inevitably drizzle into an autumn chill and then I’ll be stuck at home for the remainder of the year.  I’ve gone crackers under the covers and am gasping for a breath of fresh air.  I’ve got to crack open my snow-globe and weather the storm.  Make that escape and flee.

There’s just one problem.  Those men in the white coats are trailing me. 

I’ve long suspected that I’ve gone cuckoo in quarantine as I’m forever slipping and sliding on all of those loose marbles that pop up in the most inopportune of places.  I’m perpetually hopping a jig to a symphony of my own melody.  And, let’s not forget all of my imaginary friends, all clearly exempt from the two metre social distancing rules.  Inspiration and Imagination brought Creativity to the table, weaving tall tales and fables that entertained us to no end.  And, of course, no banquet was complete without the presence of that ever so debonair and charismatic Fly on the Wall. 

Those were the days.

But alas, restrictions are gradually being lifted, ushering in a smidgen of normalcy to my edge of the pond.  To make matters worse, I’ve run out of essentials and need to replenish my hoard.  After all, I’m down to my very last square of you know what.  Must shatter the ice, dip my toes in and test the waters.

A sea of masks stared back at me.

My first train of thought was naught with fear.  Are these hooligans who were caught in a jam and are now on the lam?  Perhaps I’m not the only one on the run. 

A gamut of emotions peered through the plethora of face coverings.  Who are these faceless beings with those expressive eyes?  The saying that “the eyes are the windows of the soul” couldn’t ring more true, as there was no need for babble or small talk.  Their eyes spoke volumes.  A collective decibel of comprehension solidified our bond. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

There’s safety in numbers.  Catch me if you can.

The shattered shards of my splintered sphere were a liberating breath of unfiltered air.

My mask has set me free.

 Might as well park myself on the bench and crack open some nuts…

 Next post:  In two weeks!  Sometime the w/o Aug 31^st,either Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday!  Stay tuned for future updates on Stuck in Quarantine Quagmire in Loco Lockdown.

Stay home, stay safe and catch up with your reading!!

 

It’s Week 217 in loco lockdown and I’ve a sneaking suspicion that I’ve gone a tad bonkers.  Not quite over the edge but precariously close to hovering near the ledge.  Insane would be too institutional of a term, whilst out to lunch wraps it up in a nutshell.  I’ve lost track of time and yesterday could be today or today could be tomorrow or tomorrow could be yesterday.  No one knows.  It’s a problem.  I could be off by two hundred or so weeks and I wouldn’t have an inkling of a clue.  Not like there’s any rush in deciphering the truth but it would be helpful to stick to a schedule and mark off the days.  The quagmire of quarantine has jolted time to a halt and a kick-start to the daily routine would be a much welcome reprieve.

And that is where my conundrum begins.  I must confess that my calendar’s a mess and I’d like a fresh start.  Would it be asking too much to request a rewind to Dec 31, 2019?  After all, I’ve purchased a lemon and I’d like a refund.

My defective 2020 agenda is a malfunctioning bust.

In retrospect, I should instead have snagged the discounted 2019 one that was on sale for a song.  But then again, hindsight is 20/20.  So, I’m now the disgruntled owner of an almanac that came up short.  It’s a dud, collecting dust in the basement, reluctant to come out of hiding and greet the day.  It’s sequestered under the cobwebs, concocting a scenario of plausibly believable explanations as to why it failed to deliver.  Guess it’ll be at least another five months of sheltering under the covers before it makes its enthusiastic leap into the New Year!

In the meantime, I’m stuck at home, paying the price for its shortcomings.  The anticipation of 365 adventures took a turn of no return on Week 1 of Stay at Home orders.  It heralded the start to 137 days of creation in isolation, as I harvested lemons in my backyard. 

Germinating Lemgens, to be exact.

Lemgen - 

Definition (as found in Le Nik-tion-ary):

Noun.  Is an offshoot of the Word-Ling (Word-Lingo) family of up and coming lexicons and phrases.  A relatively young word that sprung to life in early 2020. 

Usage:  Used primarily to express shock, disbelief and frustration with the disruption of daily life and the broken promises of one’s calendar, hence the reference to having acquired a lemon of an agenda.

Spelling variations:  Lemon-genda, Limone-genda, Gen-Lem, Gen-Lemono.

Addendum:  For more info on Word-Lings, take a peek at my previous blog post.

Must skedaddle.  Time to sprinkle the latest batch of Word-Lings with a splash of Limoncello!

Next post:  In two weeks!  The w/o August 17th, either Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or thereabouts.  Stay tuned for more updates on the latest batch of Word-Lings.  In the meantime, stay home, stay safe and catch up with your reading!

Preview of a few new Word-Lings and Phrases:

WordSing – Words that make you happy.

WordLock - Writer's block.

CitronChill – Chilling in quarantine, cancelled plans, wish I was in the French Riviera. 

LimoneChillo - Same meaning as CitronChill, with an added Italian twist for extra flair.

It's a LemGen sort of day!  OR It's a GenLem sort of day!

It's a LemChillo sort of day!