I’m trapped in a merry-go-round the clock ride with no reprieve in sight, banging and clanging in a suds infused barrel that’s clearly spiralled out of flight. I’m flailing, failing miserably on navigating these uncharted waters. Not even a glimpse of a mirage or a lighthouse beacon. I’ve either apparently lost my mind or am stuck in the spin cycle yet once again.
I’m right on course, that is, of course, if I’ve actually drifted off course.
The map is one soggy mess, washed up shore on an island that’s on the other side of somewhere. Or, was that on the precipice of nowhere?
No one knows.
It’s no longer of use to me, as the border is shuttered and I’m unable to paddle to the outskirts of the perimeter to retrieve the waterlogged blueprint that could set me free.
In the meantime, I’ve no choice but to cling on to the remnants of my threadbare socks.
Welcome to Day Who Knows What of 2020 Lockdown.
The automatic timer has apparently gone bust, a malfunctioning lemon for which refunds have been piling up in the dust. And, there’s 28 more days of combustion and confusion smirking in the wings.
Let the countdown begin.
Re-set to renew. Or was that anew? I knew this cleansing was coming…
The dratted re-set button has a glitch of which I’ve no control over until at least mid 2021. Another whirl at wading out the storm. My thoughts are tied up in knots, not to mention the tangled mess of my socks, ravaged bits of colour and yarn scattered every which where.
Pre-wash, Wash, Rinse and Spin have propelled my reality into another dimension.
I’m all wrapped up in the saga of my skedaddled socks. They’ve taken a hike and scampered off to whereabouts unknown. Just like me. Gone missing for the past three months. At least I’ve an excuse for my disappearance.
Sequestered at home for months on end, I’ve been itching for a getaway, a change of scene and an escape from my unstructured routine. The monotony of the same old drudgery was weighing on my soul and I was longing for a reprieve. An outing. A diversion. A holiday.
Until the inevitable, yet predictable, sequence of events
spiralled me in an entirely different direction.
Oi vey. Be mindful of what you wish for.
To make a long story short, one does not want to be caught in a panic during a pandemic in which one embarks on an unexpected five-day hospital stay. Nope. Nada. Not me.
“Ha! We’ll see about that!” chortled Chaos and sidekick Topsy-turvy (formerly known as the Gremlins of Travel Disruption and now out of a job due to Stay at Home orders). Ever so clever, the enterprising chameleons repackaged their game and threw me for a loop in the most unanticipated of ways.
Next thing I knew, I was being wheeled out of Emergency, having undergone surgery, with my bothersome old gallbladder kicked to the curb.
Ouch!
My 4:00am summons to lounge at “Le Wellness Spa”, aka The Curative Fix & Stich Holiday Inn, better known as The Hospital, had fortuitously arrived, an invitation that I will forever be humbled and grateful for. Enough said.
A bucket-load of rejuvenation was the kick-start to a fresh start…
Skating at the edge of the pond, I’ve slid off topic once again. The spin cycle is almost complete and one can only siesta for so long. The Spring Equinox is just around the bend, heralding a mend with the promise of a long-awaited vaccine. This celebratory news is the healing salve of miraculous cheer for a year like none other.
In the meantime, I’ve more immediate issues underfoot. There are icicles on my tootsies and I’m hopping around barefoot. My dash to the dryer to rescue those missing socks resulted in a tumble that left me with a few sore ribs and a round of vertigo.
Touché 2020!
Those darned old stockings have hightailed it on a flight out of here and have catapulted themselves into the New Year. Eager to cement new imprints of their footprints, they’re always one step ahead.
As for me, I’m just rolling with the times.
The countdown has officially begun…
One more post to go before the leap into 2021. Next post: Sometime the w/o Dec 28th. Stay tuned for yet another posting of “The Quarantine Series”, before I jump into the New Year and forge new imprints of a brand new compilation of musings and impressions.
