Thinking of a Place


Happiness on the rock.

I

reckon we could all use a bit of color. It’s Friday. We sort of made it to someplace else. The weekend. I’m not excited about that. Working from home sort of tones that down. But, this is the start of Carnival and that means something even though I can’t photograph it.

But, during parade time I can wander down the street and stand at the far edge of the crowd and see some floats, maybe catch a bead or two. I’ll be targeted because…

I haven’t cut my hair in a long time. My former stylist shop’s employees refuse to wear masks. Do you honestly think that I’m going to sit in a chair with someone breathing down my neck? For that matter, I haven’t brushed or combed it away from warm lights which made it look brownish-blonde. I finally looked at it in daylight. Oh my. It’s very silver. I look my age.

So, I’ll be targeted for beads tossed to me gently because I’m such a broken down old senior. Little do they know. I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing. If I weren’t afraid of getting sick and dying I’d be in the front of the crowd making pictures.

The president said, among other things like condemning the former president, that we were going to have to get used to living with CoVid-19. Or, is that a warm up for a speech in Atlanta? I forget.

I ought to be a government adviser. I knew that almost from day one. Read about pandemics for five minutes and you knew where this was headed. The Spanish Flu is still around after 100 years. The strain of yearly flu that comes along right about now is a descendant of that.

I was ready until I wasn’t.

Who knew that other factors would come into play?

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