The Fluffbucket Diaries

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.

Mood.

Called in sick. Dodged an emergency room visit despite abdominal pain that reminded me of my birthday ER trip six years ago, when I ended up with emergency gallbladder surgery.

I’ve never liked ERs – my father died in one – and they’re especially scary right now.

This time, I took some Advil and went to bed, and managed to get some sleep. Residual pain will keep me offline from the office today.

Après moi, le déluge! is the watchword of every capitalist and of every capitalist nation.

Karl Marx

And in other news …

Yet in the middle of this deadly pandemic that shows no obvious signs of abating, the president made clear that the paramount concern for Trump is Trump — his self-image, his media coverage, his supplicants and his opponents, both real and imagined.

Ashley Parker, “The Me President: Trump uses pandemic briefing to focus on himself, Washington Post

First stab at naan was so laughable, I didn’t even try to mark the occasion with a photo. It’s like thick, doughy slabs of South Asian hardtack. Will try again when I can afford to blow another few cups of flour on an iffy culinary experiment.

Been thinking about John Prine a lot since reports surfaced that he had contracted COVID-19. I saw him a couple of times when he opened for Bonnie Raitt back in the early ’90s, and only recently realized that we’ve probably been driving past his childhood home on 1st Avenue in Maywood all these years.

I was always fond of his work, but I’ve listened a lot more to his songs the past few weeks, and understand more deeply how much we’ve lost. This Rolling Stone piece captures the down-to-earth sweetness that clearly defined his music.

Time for a vodka and ginger ale. And maybe an ice cream cone.

Eastertide lunch: ham and egg salad with Japanese mayo, hot sandwich peppers, and brown mustard on day-old homemade bread. I should have reheated the bread. And yes, I’m bored during this brief lunch break.

Sad to see the namesake shop featured in the documentary California Typewriter has shut down.

And in other news, BTS has a favorite florist.

Outside of YouTube and a printout of the Liturgy of the Word, this is as close as I got to Mass today.