Odds & Ends

The DMV

Last week, I had cause to visit the local Division of Motor Vehicles. In pre-Covid times, this was a nightmare. One set aside an entire afternoon simply to drop something off at the DMV.

After Covid, in the now, the DMV has figured out it can schedule appointments. It has learned how to speed things through. 

I was doing something that could have, in pre-Covid days, taken hours.

I was in and out in less than 15 minutes. I made an appointment for 11 a.m. I arrived early. I was supposed to scan a QR code, but it said I was too early. It was 10:47 a.m. The security guard waved me on in, walked me past a line of people to an information clerk who was not doing anything, and she checked me in. She told me to go to Line 21.

I did. No one was in Line 21. The woman asked me if I was number thus and such, and I nodded. I told her what I needed. I'd already filled out the forms. She took care of what I needed, and as I stepped out the door I glanced at my watch. It said 11:02 a.m.

Fifteen minutes at the DMV. Who'd have thought it 10 years ago?

The Dream

The other night I dreamed that I was on another planet entirely. There were other people there; it was a settled world, but it wasn't Earth. The ground undulated from time to time, for one thing, but no one said a word about it. Somewhere off in the distance, these things with tentacles on them hovered off the ground, and they had a big orange "5" flashing on them. Some kind of native animal, I guess.

I apparently had written an article, and something was wrong with it, for I'd been called before the journalism board. They told me I'd written the story wrong, and I hadn't solved the crime. It wasn't my job to solve the crime, I explained. But since the crime wasn't solved - apparently it was a murder - I shouldn't have written the story.

"Then I'll go solve the damn crime!" I cried out (possibly even if my sleep) and I leapt up. I roamed around and found bits of human remains by someone's outdoor grill.

They had eaten Charles Barkley (the basketball player).

That was about the time I woke.

I know that Charles Barkley came from a TV commercial I'd seen that night, because I'd asked my husband who the man in the commercial was and it was he, but I don't know where the rest of the stuff came from. There is no "journalism board" that I am aware of or apart of; maybe if I actually worked at a newspaper there would be colleagues who would lay such charges, I don't know. Perhaps that came from watching Alaska Daily, which is a TV show about a news reporter in Alaska. I don't know what the big flashing orange "5" means, but it was so vivid in the dream - and so long in the background - it must indicate something.

The subconscious mind is a crazy place.

Another School Shooting

I don't know why we can ban the word "gay," ban books, ban drag, ban foods, ban drugs, ban the statue of David, etc., but can't do a damn thing about guns.

Hating on Myself

Yesterday, I hated every possible atom of my being. I hated my hair. I hated the fact that I can't wear makeup anymore because I've developed an allergy to it (all of it, apparently, even the ones supposedly safe make me itch). I hated the fact that I am fat. I hated that I feel like I do nothing (even though I know that's not true, just today I washed 3 loads of clothes, vacuumed the house, went to the grocery store, made the bed, did the dishes, and will fix dinner shortly). It was just that kind of day.

Unfortunately, it's carried over into today, and at the moment it's mostly aimed at my inability to cook well (it would help if I actually enjoyed cooking), because the pork loin I'd expected to feed us for 3 days at least turned out to be inedible. I cooked it in the crockpot the way I always do, but it was tough and pretty awful.

But so help me, I do not find satisfaction in reading recipes, and there is nothing about chopping vegetables or playing with naked uncooked meats that makes me happy or content. The only thing I like to do with food is eat it.