The Linda Letters by Gabriel O'Sullivan: Pandemic = maniac

16 May 2020
986

R. Linda:

Local Clean-Up Of The Family Refrigerator

Yesterday (6th of May), me Mam was cleaning out the refrigerator. She usually does this, but yesterday, she'd had it. As I was walking by the kitchen, I heard this, all for me own benefit, I be sure.

"Wot be the matta wit males in dis hoose? Every tyme I goo inta da fridge, it be a mess of old food and drippy messes!"

I walked a little faster to be as far out of earshot as possible, but with open-concept living, she could see me, and I could hear her.

"Ooh, wood ye luck at dis! Wot eva dis wuz it turned green and be tryin' to get oot of da jar."

I had sat down on the couch and slouched me big self down, hoping she'd forget I was there. But after she said what she did, I heard a big THUMP as the jar hit the bottom of the trash bin, making me jump.

"New sense in me tryin' ta wash dat oot, I'd be scuubin' fur a year I should."

I sat trying to read me phone messages as she muttered to herself with a thump, emphasising each sentence. There must have been 9 thumps of old food being thrown in the bin.

"Da poor people of da worl be starving' an' we here in dis hoose be wastin' food we are!" That was followed by another THUMP, followed by the crash of glass on glass as whatever was in that jar hit another discarded jar. To be snarky, I wanted to say, "Whatever happened to recycling?" But I knew she'd have me washing all those jars if I opened me piehole. I tell ya, if I could have got up and moved to another room. I would have; crawling was not an option, but for her seeing me moving, she'd have me ear in the kitchen showing me the debris from the refrigerator and probably blaming ME and me prodigy, so no, I slouched even more. I thought after another 15 minutes, she had forgotten I was where I was, but the resident Bobcat noticed me and came sauntering up to me meowing for attention. This brought her right to me with a jar filled with greenish slop that she opened and told me to take a whiff.

I did to please her and gassed meself so bad I had to stand up as I choked me way out of the room, cat hanging off me jeans where he had hooked himself, but her voice followed me, "I should haf ya coom back an' clean da rest o' it."

I unhooked Bob's claws from the skin under me jeans and noticed as I turned on me way out that the cat was all about the bloody green jar. The smell was attractive to it, and I croaked out at her, "Give it to the cat." It would serve Bob right if he up and died from being a glutton. He'd eat anything, and for reminding her, I was where I was hiding from her, or at least trying to hide.

This be what she opened and shoved under me proboscis:

Looked like fermented brains in a jar

That was 6th of May. Since then, if any of us "boyos" wants anything in the kitchen, we sneak down, make sure the Mam isn't in the vicinity, grab a snack and scurry off. It be a matter of time before she discovers the discarded wrappers and old food in their rooms and me office.

Mother's Day and beyond!

Holidays (if yesterday was any indication) will be rather bizarre from now on. Mam hasn't seen Ben since everyone was told to shelter in place. He called and asked if he could drop off a plant for Mam and was told to come ahead. He said he would not stay long and meet us outside. Well, it was bizarre, to say the least, R. Linda. There we all were social distancing, standing outside in the not-so-warm windy gale that was buffeting us all over the deck, shouting over it to be heard. There were a lot of hands to ears in listening fashion while yelling over the wind, "WHAT?" If anyone had seen us they'd have thought we were all hard of hearing or just simply daft.

Can you imagine what Christmas will be like? All of us out on the front deck, outdoor lights on as the snow falls, exchanging gifts by tossing them the desired 6'? The wrappings fly away in the wind as the kiddos complain, "I'm cold." Then Mam tries to serve her hot wassail punch with it freezing before it can get to frozen blue lips. The faery lights twinkle as we stamp around, trying to get circulation in our toes and blowing on heavily mittened hands as if THAT would warm frost-bitten fingers. Our nose hairs frozen, breathing great clouds of steam and some wise-arse kiddo measuring the distance to make sure 6' was far enough. I tell ya!

What could be worse? How about Thanksgiving, me fav American holiday. There we would be setting up sawhorses with boards over them to make a giant table from one end of the front deck to the other. All of us sitting 6' apart, sliding food that be getting cold back and forth to each other. Yelling to be heard at one end of the table to the next. Waving at our neighbours five acres away doing the same thing. We all decide we don't want ice cream on our apple pie or cold whipped cream on the pumpkin because it is too cold to eat that way. Besides us all getting up for hot showers to get the slopped gravy, we slid back and forth off ourselves.

And Halloween, WHAT do we do about THAT? We could have each of the kiddos dress up and go out the back door, ring the front doorbell, and hear them shout, "Trick or treat!" Tonya and I act surprised and give them candy as we turn to each other and say, "Wasn't that cute?" And we shut the door as they go around the back to get back in to count their loot. One candy bar a piece! Wowey wow wow!

Being Bored And Finding Common Ground - sort of

Then there be the new email activity that, at times, makes me laugh like a hyena and, other times, marvel at why and what I am looking at. All this is because we have no entertainment but what we can make ourselves.

YOU decided to send me pictures of things around your house that you just happen to hold dear and rather like the look of. Me reaction was at times, thinking I was in a museum for the dead. Or from a section of Hogwarts that I didn't know existed.

Like this for example: