The mud of last week, the thick clay-like, impossible without muscle power, desire, and the loudest sucking sounds, like harvesting gooey ducks, to pull out of, has been diluted. Now it’s just muddy water that won’t exactly wash anything clean, but leaves room to maneuver, and feels (momentarily) refreshing by comparison.
Any researcher will confirm that two points do not make a trend, but I’m a trend seeker. My own trends mostly. I don’t care much whether the monocle is making a comeback, or that hipster boys are suddenly all sporting buns and weaving flowers into their beards . My outlook on life – up or down- depends on trending myself. And you have to agree that two points is more of a trend than one. I need to see mud to muddy water as progress.
I stopped watching TV shows. I got out of bed. On Thursday I made some turkey sausages, on Friday, a chicken. Hopefully that’s a trend – a cooking trend, not a poultry trend. The side dishes consisted of noodles and butter and then something called Sidekicks, a knock off of the decades-old Rice-A-Roni, a celebration of MSG but without the nostalgia. It was on sale for a dollar, and only requires adding water. I know, I know. But I steamed broccoli - a fresh, reliable and forward-looking vegetable.
I drove my 11 year old to day camp, and picked him up. I didn’t dissolve into an angry puddle when he told me we needed to go to the lost and found where we didn’t find his missing hat, but did find his goggles. I’m hoping this is a sign of positivity and not indifference.
A friend came over and brought two pain-au-chocolat, which she pulled out of a paper bag and put on plates.
“Did you wash your hands? Have you touched anything else?”
“Only the bank machine.”
Perhaps you’ve also heard the stats on bank machines and germs. Right up there with public toilets. I pushed the plate back with my elbow.
“No worries,” she said. “I’ll eat both.”
I found mouse poo in a large drawer stuffed with table clothes and napkins. I only almost cried when the same friend told me to be very careful (I’d already handled the poo) because her mom had died from Toxoplasmosis.
I washed my hands and washed my hands and washed my hands, and wiped off the phone. I did three loads of laundry.
Up until the WBCC (white blood cell crash) of 2014, I may have been one of the least germ-phobic adults of anyone I know. No I'm not going to see the film Wetlands - I do have certain germ limiits. Now I’m living in one of those old cleaning product ads with bug-eyed, fang-toothed, screaming animated germ threats. Is Mr Clean single?
It’s weird to have gone from long-range blanket fears (cancer returning, never getting a book deal, cancer returning) to the imminent threat of death or debilitating illness from infection, to indifferent stick-in-the-mud, to a combo long-range and imminent threats - is that a fever, a sore throat a protrusion in my belly, a lumpy-feeling thing in my breast - in the course of 10 days.
Trendsetting, trend-identification, trend-analysis. It’s all exhausting. Maybe I need to consider a trend-stopping pill.