I woke up to a snow falling on cedars Saturday morning. I’m getting used to strangeness and unexpectedness. It was rather pretty and serene. It gave me a peaceful feeling, as if everything is okay. And it is, isn’t it? I have food, water, clothing and shelter. I’m lucky that I don’t have to worry about employment and income. I’m retired with a pension. I don’t know what it is like to have those worries now. I have been there in my younger days, always thinking of how to stretch the dollar. I have paid my dues. I feel no guilt.
It is almost supper time. The day can go accounted for when you linger and scroll here and there. It’s that kind of a day. Sometimes it doesn’t really matter too much if things don’t go according to the plan. I learn not to get into a sweat and make another plan. I mustn’t be too lackadaisical though. There IS a deadline for filing income tax – June 1. I still haven’t made a move on it. Perhaps tomorrow.
Contrary to the popular saying that tomorrow never comes, it has. It is Sunday. I haven’t done my taxes yet but I haven’t been idle either. I’m not in the flow of things so my words come in stutterings. It is almost supper time. I’m tired, having fought Sheba to clean her ears. She hates it with a passion, snapping her teeth at me. But it is done. She got the whole body treatment today. A brush out, massage and range of motion exercise on her right hip. It’s been giving her trouble lately. It’s worrisome. I don’t want her to suffer.
It is Mothers Day. The world is still stalled and in limbo. This time last year we were seated around a big table at Yip Hong’s for a Chinese supper celebration. I wonder when we will be able to do that again. It seems unreal, like a dream or a bad joke that we can endanger each other, that there are over 280,000 deaths worldwide due to Covid-19 in these months.