The Fluffbucket Diaries

Lockdown living.

Whiling away some time during #PokemonGOCommunityDay at home.

Finally listening to the Minutemen’s “Double Nickels on the Dime” in its entirety because I don’t want to leave this world an incomplete Gen X’er from Southern California.

“You can ‘reopen’ the country all you want. You cannot force people to act as though there is not a pandemic.”

I am enjoying the dress-up options in this game. #AnimalCrossing #PocketCamp #luchadorable

One bit of fallout from this coronavirus business: My Facebook activity is starting to rise. Not by much, but I’m tiptoeing into the news feeds occasionally, usually with things I first share here or on other platforms. (In the case of the latter, the stuff on other platforms makes its way back here.)

My desperation for human contact has led me to the Evil Empire. God help me.

A friend on Facebook shared a story where he and a mutual friend of ours ran into Willie Mays at a ballpark. He used the anecdote to solicit stories of “unexpected brushes with greatness.” Here’s what I shared.

I was walking down Michigan Avenue with my sister and a friend visiting from San Diego; I think this was in 1998. My sister nudged me and looked over her shoulder.

“I think that’s Tony Gwynn!” she said. I thought she was nuts, but then I remembered that the Padres were in town. I looked behind us and the first thing I noticed was That Laugh – that unmistakable gurgling laugh of his – and then saw him lingering in front of the Nike store, talking to an older guy that I suspect was the Padres' hitting coach at the time, Merv Rettenmund.

My sister, her friend, and I kept nudging each other to go talk to him, and I finally caved and ran back. Gwynn sighed and didn’t seem thrilled to be recognized, but I still babbled at him about how I was a big fan, that I grew up in Chula Vista but moved to Chicago a couple of years before – to which he replied, “What the hell did you do that for?”

He agreed to sign a copy of a newspaper I had because I didn’t have anything else for him to sign, and this was well before the days of cellphone cameras. And then he went on his way. It was a fleeting surreal moment to run into a hometown hero well out of context of my actual hometown.

I just ate a whole bag of dark chocolate Reese’s peanut butter cups. The dark chocolate makes it healthy. At least that’s what I tell myself.

The husband was reading through a list of “band names completely transformed by one letter.” For example, The Why (instead of The Who) and the Yeastie Boys.

The pinnacle, for me: Goy Division.

I’m all about the whole stay-the-f—k-home thing. But I think I’m officially tired of TV shows where panelists are talking at each other from their living rooms.

Pulled on my rattiest shoes to run a quick errand. It dawned on me that I used this opportunity to buy chocolate, Pringles, and diet soda. It’s like living through my first job all over again.

X released its debut, “Los Angeles,” 40 years ago. And 40 years later, its original lineup has issued its first album in 35 years. Just downloaded it. Like X of old.

I don’t even know what day it is anymore. Or what hour of the day it is, for that matter.

I just ate a Pop-Tart for dessert. I can’t tell if this is Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory.

My alma mater charges ahead with plans to go virtual in the fall.

All I want to do today is read about comic actress Maya Rudolph’s obsession with Prince. And then listen to Prince all day.

God bless this nun who’s just trying to keep our Lord’s spot tidy during live-streamed Adoration from her convent.

The Washington Post reports: “Patients with heart attacks, strokes and even appendicitis vanish from hospitals.”

One trauma director at a South Carolina hospital says he’s seeing late appendicitis in some cases: “I would say 70 percent of the appendicitis on my service right now are late presentations. What happens when you present late with appendicitis is we can’t operate on you safely.”

People are just plain scared to go to a hospital these days because of COVID-19. Guess I’m not the only one who feels this way.

More Sunday drive pix from Chicago. Sad to see some things, like the plight of the homeless, not change.

It was also sad to be confined to the passenger seat instead of being able to explore by foot. It was startling how quiet it was for a weekend day.

On a beautiful Midwest afternoon, I felt well enough to join the family for an old-fashioned Sunday drive. Opted to head into the city for the first time in forever, and I took some pix through the windshield while Chris drove. No Mayor Lightfoot sightings, sadly.

Weekend mood.

Be patient and tough; one day this pain will be useful to you.

~ Ovid, quoted in How Lovely the Ruins: Inspirational Poems and Words for Difficult Times

I look forward to a day when a brief dry cough won’t fling me into spasms of anxiety.

I guess I’d better work from home tomorrow.