Adventures In Caronavirus Land, Episode ...?

Which one is this exactly? Or are we past the point where counting episodes matters. Some of you are still reading, though. Nothing better to do either?

Sunday. Day of rest. If that's your belief. For others, Saturday. Or Friday. When you're retired, it's hard to pick out one that distinguishes itself from others.

Mine started out restful. Woke up after 7 hours sleep, did the necessary, went back to sleep. @ hours later, Woke again. Got up. Got dressed. Watched some TV. Slept in my chair.

Steve had been online and shared a whine from some local person about them closing down the centers and ball courts/fields, but letting the golf courses stay open. Hey, lady, it's so much easier to keep your "social distance" on a golf course and clustered around the bocce balls, eh? They haven't closed the sidewalks to walking either. I've even seen - gasp! - couples trudging along together! Life just ain't fair.

(Hmmm, frustration!!! I was going to put something snarky about Trump and walking/riding around golf courses here. It sounded wonderful in my head while I was in the shower, but I've totally spaced all but the plan to do it. Dang!)

I'd had big plans for breakfast. I buy add-water-only pancake mix. Never have to worry about having the right number of eggs or amount of milk. I like to add fruit(s) to the mix first, then water to the right consistency. Today's plan was applesauce and cinnamon. No applesauce in the pantry, and not gonna go out for some. Found peaches, apparently canned a decade ago because once I used the can opener I discovered something almost black inside.

Forget the dang pancakes! Nuked a frozen breakfast sandwich instead, after removing that glop they call cheese.

After that third nap, though, I felt ambitious.  I'd sprayed weeds again yesterday until my back complained that I was bending over too long in order to make sure that tiny stream hit something green. Whole patches of them were still out there, mocking me. Patches which were sprayed before the last rain were showing generous new growth between the dying bits. Time to go back to work. I finished the remains in both sprayers, then hunted through the house for the concentrate to mix another gallon.

Bet you think I had it in hand, eh? Well.... I'm gonna remember next time to put the water in the mixing tank before I add the chemical.  Seems it foams up when the water splashes in, so there have to be several pauses before enough water can be added to make the proportions right. But I did finally figure out how to get the vacuum canister come off for emptying, and go back on while I was waiting. It's now in the living room, tucked behind me where I don't have to look at it and feel guilty about not using it.

But the yard did get fully covered this time. Seems that if I use the widest stream, covering patches rather than plants, it's really quick and I don't have to bend over to see just where each little plant is to be sure it's wet.

There was one puzzle, however. What does it say when a neighbor who hasn't acknowledged you for several years yells a "Hello" across the street? Is it a kind of "Hey, we're all still alive here" kind of a thing as we wait out this virus? Or is it some passive-aggressive way of letting you know it's well past time you took care of those weeds?

We have two spiny cactus in the yard. That's if you can count the roof over the patio as "yard." There's no trough there to move rain aside, just a flat plate across the end of the metal roof. It catches pine needles in the tiny gap where you thought it was flush. And a cactus seed as well, apparently. It's been there for years, possible since before we moved in but just didn't notice. It's been pulled out several times. A year or so later, there it is again, laughing at us. Spiny as heck. I'm not going to be the one pulling it out, no sirree. Uh-uh. Not even with gloves and tongs. Nope. Not me.

The second one popped up in the front yard, about two feet away from the driveway. It's so tiny, nobody believed me when I said it was there. They couldn't find it. When I went out to point it out, I couldn't either. Then next time, it was there again. I mentally marked its spot against other things in the yard, like the sunken garbage can, driveway lines, or another plant. When I looked for it again, I still couldn't find it. Finally some piece of fluffy white something lodged in the rocks a few inches away, and that became my marker for it, until it blew away again.

I'd asked Rich to please remove it for us last summer. It hadn't gotten done, but I hadn't seen it either to notice. Until I did again. Now it's got two fat little (spiny) pads on it, and three somethings coming out of them. Not sure if those are new growth or flowers. I have pictures now, proof of something or other. I think about putting a stake in the yard, though whether to warn people or just help  me find it again I haven't decided. I want to see what it does, though. I'm still amazed at how something green can hide in reddish rocks. But I can nearly always find it now! And I'm pretty sure I didn't spray it. I think.

I took a wonderful shower after the spraying was finished. It seemed wise, not just because I was sweaty and a tad rank. OK, OK, I admit it: really rank! There, you happy? I've seen the ads on the TV about the chemical weed killer causing cancer and killing you too, green or not, but you can collect $$ before you croak. Or some such message. I've been using it for years, but figure if it's going to be cancer, it'll be 4 years of training managers in an unventilated dry cleaners back in the '80s that'll do it  to me first. Or maybe the caronavirus will beat them both to it. Still, I'm smelling a lot better now, so it's safe for you to read this! (Sniff sniff) Just checking. Yep, safe.