Monday, January 3 – Sunday, January 9, 2022
The Week in COVID Part 1 – Communication: In a weird week where COVID cases spiked across the country, in my office, we had an doozy of a Monday afternoon. A new employee on her very first day in the office, chose to wait until after lunch to mention she had COVID. That’s how the few us who had come into contact with her heard the story. Wow. We had a tense, curse-filled hour or so because she took it upon herself to go home. Once we tracked her down, the truth came out. Turns out she HAD had COVID relatively and was around someone the previous week who was continuing to test positive for weeks after he had symptoms. (It’s confusing, yes.) As Emily Lutella from 70’s era SNL would say, “Nevermind.”
The Week in COVID Part 2 – Cancelled!: The spike in Omicron is cancelling and disrupting things right and left. I was set to see the musical Hairspray at the Aronoff but the cast is infected and they postponed till May. Also, the diner I walk past on my way to work had to close two days this week due to the COVID’s impact on staffing. It’s not that I missed their food (which is great), but I did miss the Oldies music they pipe onto the sidewalk. Usually it’s a tune I know that I can hum and pretend I know the words to for the last two blocks of my commute. The last song of the week was on Tuesday, “One Fine Day” by the Chiffons. At least it was a jam!
The Week in COVID Part 3 – Hope: Finally, this week I bought tickets for the three day music festival, Forcastle, in Louisville. It is scheduled for Memorial Day Weekend and I’m hoping one, that it happens, and two, that after a two year hiatus from 3-day music festivals, I still have the stamina to do it. I might need a training program.
The Week in Found Money: One day this week I found a $5 bill on the ground on my walk to work. I thought that was great. The same day, on my walk back to work from lunch, I found another $5 dollar bill. I looked around a lot longer, expecting I was part of test. Seemed legit and I pocketed that, too.
Later in the week, a guy hustled me for money. I said I didn’t have any but he persisted. In some way, a street hustler’s persistence annoys me, but in other ways, I find it impressive that they continue in the face of adversity. Anyway, he asked if I could buy him something from the store. I thought about the ten bucks of found money in my pocket. I thought he was going to ask for chips or beer, but he asked for Newports, two packs. Not one pack, two. Hilarious. Well, I actually walked up the the store, bought ONE pack of Newports, $9.87!!!, and walked back and handed it over to him. That squared me in the hood for the week!
The Week in Shopping: My Mom’s brand of peanut butter is Reese, like from the Reese’s Cup peanut butter. It is hard to find, but Walmart carries it. I’ve been having it shipped to her for a couple years for no reason other than I don’t like to shop in Walmart. This week though, I went to the Ft. Wright Walmart.
It was just as I remember it and, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with Walmart at all. It serves a large swath of the country and though a lot of the goods are cheaper in quality, many are great and simply sold at a cheaper price. The politics of shoppers was as apparent there as in any store I normally shop at, just leaning right instead of left. They carry a lot of products for people who make things and do things. And weirdly, for all the conservative, right wing, home-based merchandise, the music in the store was an indie playlist that would have been right at home in any hipster bar I would hang at.
I walked around for a bit with 4 jars of Reese peanut butter in my cart. A couple of people stopped me to ask what I had. Maybe there will be a run on Reese and it will become available at my more regular stores. Maybe!
The Week in the Demise of Dry January: I tried Dry January this year. It was a mess from the get-go. On 1/1, I was at my friend’s house, the house with one of the best beer fridges in the city. I started on 1/2, and was raring to go. Then, Omicron spiked, an old friend passed away, and even one of my best friend’s dogs died. I mean, I don’t want to live a country song, but if I have to live a country song, I best enjoy some booze. Eight days of pandemic dry = 30 days of regular dry. Cheers!