So, Of Course

      Yesterday, I was running around and getting nerve up to go work at the Main Campus for only the third time since coronavirus dispersal in March of 2020.

      I'm old and out of shape.  I took a short soak in bathwater loaded with Epsom salt.  Ahh, relief!

      At least, I was relieved until I opened the drain for a quick rinse and the water didn't drain.   Worked the valve a few times and the level sank a bit; rinsed off, dried, started getting ready and tried the one of those disposable clog-grabbers.  It felt like it grabbed a clog, all right, but I couldn't pull it out -- and the draining process came to a stop.

      I fiddled with it for far too long, was late to work, and returned home eight hours later to several inches of standing water in the tub.  This morning, I made a little hook out of thin steel wire and cleared the clog, using needle-nose pliers on some of it.  Yeah, the standard hair-clog that afflicts anyone with hair of greater than crew-cut length.  And no, I'm not pondering a shorter 'do for summer, thank you very much.

Memorial Day

      I'm working today.  I'm also stopping for a moment, and remembering.

      Memorial Day, the unofficial start of summer, a day for cookouts and picnics, right?  Sure.  It's also, and most saliently, a day to remember the fallen.  There are people we should thank for their service today -- but they're unable to reply.

      Our pleasant holiday exists because men (and women) put themselves between their fellow citizens and the terrifying destruction of war, just as other men and women in other lands are doing right now.  War is not normal; war should not be the default state of life on our planet.  But wars exist, and wars chew up soldier's lives, always.  Reluctant or resolute, they served and fell.  Remember their sacrifice.

Working The Weekend

      Yesterday was my birthday.  I don't do birthdays well, so I was just as glad to have to work.  On the other hand, the day ended a little early, so I grilled a couple of steaks, cooked some fresh mushrooms in a pot on the grill (with butter, garlic powder, a diced radish and a chopped shishito pepper), baked a couple of potatoes and made a simple salad (and simpler dressing: extra-virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, "Italian" seasoning mix: three times as much oil as vinegar, seasoning to taste, pour into a small container with a good lid -- an old glass spice bottle -- and shake thoroughly).  Sounds like a lot of work?  It was a little over an hour from uncovering the grill to sitting down to dinner.

     I picked up half an apple pie, too, and I was going to have some heated up, with vanilla ice cream.  But it turned out the steak dinner was more than enough.  So I had that dessert after breakfast today.

     That's plenty of celebrating.

Yesterday

     Friday got away from me.  I'm working this weekend and had Thursday and Friday off, so that's weird to begin with; Saturday is usually my laundry and housecleaning (such as gets done) day.  The developing mess with Uvalde police response and fallacious early statements kept drawing my attention.*  Trying to get things done with open wounds on my left hand and wrist (4 - 6 washings and dressing changes per day) is another distraction and time sink, and by the time I was doing the last of my chores, it was past bedtime already.  So no post.

     And today, you get this.
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* I try not to second-guess police, especially early on -- we have the Press, politicians and, when necessary, the courts for that -- but the LEO response appears to have been far short of optimal and the originally-claimed timeline is starting to look more and more like some kind of CYA under the banner of "fog of war."  This manner of horrific crime shouldn't happen -- but they do, and when they do, the law-enforcement response should not be to stand back while innocent lives are under immediate threat.  In coming days, we will all know more about why and how that happened, and I hope law enforcement will be working on ways to never do so again. 

Meh

     Meh.

Another Horror

      This one worse than the previous mass shooting, though I recoil from the idea that any murder is less bad than any other.

      I'm writing about yesterday's mass shooting in Uvalde, Texas.  Nineteen elementary-school children, two adults and one murderer, all dead.  And this just days after an attention-seeking mass killer in Buffalo, NY, a stopped-early attempt in California and what appears to be a gang-related shoot-out in Chicago that killed two and injured eight.

      Wikipedia has a list.  Like any such list, there are plenty of details to quibble over, but that won't make the victims any less dead.

      Public figures all across the political spectrum have all said the expected things.  After years of this kind of tragic attack, anyone who pays much attention to the news knows where they stand and a lot of us have near-reflex responses.  That's not a good thing; no matter what your opinion might be, the events that give a reason to share it shouldn't be as common as they have become.  This shouldn't be a habit.

      I don't have any answers or proposed solutions.  Killing so many preteens is especially heinous.  The apparent racial motivation of the Buffalo murderer is despicable but it's familiar, even if most racists are content to merely wave signs and rant at one another and passers-by.  But once again, the news cycle made the perpetrator famous: name, history and manifesto.  At least now, most of the news services flutter fans and deplore the practice -- but they do it anyway, lest the competition beat them to it.  And when one of these twisted losers gets the spotlight, others too-often follow.

      Twitter succumbed to pin-the-killer-on-the-other-guys, with at least one truly inflammatory red herring achieving brief prominence.  It's not a helpful practice; it just adds to the churn and the glitter of attention.

      The United States has roughly as many firearms as people.  Every single one of them can do serious harm to innocent others.*  Rounding them all up and locking them away is not just impractical, it's impossible.  (And that's without addressing the serious individual rights issue and the likely civil response to such an effort.)

      These kinds of killer -- indeed, most mass and spree killers -- appear to be largely male and between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five.  Men in this age range do seem to have greater issues with modulating their emotions, with judgement and impulse control, precisely why armies invented sergeants.  Is that a significantly contributing factor?  I don't know -- but it's the kind of thing we need to start figuring out, instead of shouting bumper-sticker slogans at one another across the scene of the most recent outrage to make headlines, because mass shootings aren't stopping.  Better ways to make our familiar old arguments won't slow the murders down and the next bloody-handed loser is already staring at TV screens, newspapers and websites in rapt attention as they proceed to make Uvalde and the killer there tragically infamous.
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* If you're seeing ambiguity over "them" being people or guns, you're right.  Both can do great harm.  Only one has volition.

Hi, Bye

      Not much to report, other than I am completely swamped in routine (and non-routine) housework, paying work, next door cat care and wound care.  Filled my car up yesterday evening, at over five bucks a gallon for high-test, and what I want is a Vlad Putin "I did that" sticker.  Without his halfwitted war, we might be paying more for gas, but it wouldn't be anywhere near this much more.

     My injuries appear to be healing okay so far.  I was overdue for routine blood work when that happened and I had put it off.  It requires fasting for twelve hours before, which is no fun.  But here I am, enjoying a nice water and no vitamins, getting ready to shower and go annoy the long-suffering lab tech.

That Was... Not Much

      What did I get done this weekend?  Almost nothing.  I discovered Friday night that I was supposed to be taking the antibiotic twice a day, not once.  Also that I was supposed to be washing out my injuries a lot more often than I was -- four to six times a day.

      So I did that, I did laundry, I got dishwashing gloves and finally caught up on dishes.  I got to where I needed to be at a minimum.

      I have a number of "progress" tasks on my list, like emptying everything portable out of the washroom and scrubbing the place down, cleaning out the kitchen and scrubbing the floor, building one more bookshelf for the living room and putting a few more books (and collectibles) in some kind of order.  I made no progress at all.  I'm tired and I don't want to stress the wound across the back of my ring finger.

      Then there's the serious need to take a weed-whacker to the weedier spots around the yard, especially at the side of the house and along the fences.  No progress.  The vibration from the weed-whacker is trouble enough when things are normal.

      So I'm keeping up.  I'm keeping the neighbor's cats fed, with some help from Tam.  That's going to have to be enough for now.

Chatting With The Automaton

      "Alexa, who would you vote for?"

     "WELL, QUITE FRANKLY, I DON'T THINK BOTS SHOULD INFLUENCE ELECTIONS."

     I think we're all on board with that.

Antibiotics And A Warning

      The RapiDoc (not its real name) went well, but came with a short lecture.  No, it wasn't about not startling the cat (I think that has sunk in) but on monitoring the deep slash across the back of my left ring finger and what to do if it shows signs of infection: go to the ER.  And the doctor meant go: I am not to give it time or try some different topical goo, just get in the car and get to the hospital.

      They have me on the latest, greatest antibiotic pills and if those are overmatched, the only next steps are things you need a hospital for.  So that was sobering.  My normal inclination is to clean and bandage minor injuries, then ignore them until they heal.  This time, I'll need to be a little more proactive.

      The nurse and doctor had me soak my hand in something mild for several minutes, swabbed every cut and puncture with iodine, coated it with triple antibiotic and bandaged it up a little differently to my first efforts.  When I picked up my prescription, I bought some self-sticking tape and non-stick bandages so I can copy what they did.

Doc In A Box

      Headed to the instant doc shortly.  Setting it up online wasn't so instant.  But my bandaid job from last night is not entirely adequate, so off I go. 

And Today, It Rained

      It rained off and on all day.  The good news is that the temperature dropped.

      I startled Holden the cat this evening and he went off like a hand grenade.  He was sneaking across my desk, which he knows he shouldn't do, intent on getting to a very narrow spot near the printers, which he knows is off limits.  It's a tricky process, especially since I have set things up to make it harder for him to get there, and I guess he didn't realize I had put my left hand under his tummy until I started to lift him--

      Panic!  He lashed out every which way at once and I dropped him in my chair, but not before he'd managed to rake my left hand pretty good.   There's a deep gash diagonally across the first knuckle of my left ring finger, a smaller one on my left index finger and a handful of scratches on the underside of my left wrist.  I applied a paper towel and pressure (and sobbed a bit) then washed them all out well -- twice -- and poured alcohol across them before bandaging it all up.  (Yeah, it's icky to wash out an injury but after a certain point in life, you just accept that it's going to not be much fun for a few seconds in exchange for being less trouble in the longer term.)

      Every last drive-in doc is closed this time of night and I'm not going to the ER for scratches.  Poor Holden seems a bit dazed by it all.