I woke up at 6 am. I could have gotten up but decided to turn over. Judy called at 9, just as I was waking up. Her kids had gotten the result of their virus test. They didn't have it now, but the question had been, had they had it earlier and had Judy caught from them. I thought their test was going to show antibodies if they ever had it. However, they weren't given a blood test, which they would have needed to show that. They only gave them the nose and throat swab test, which tests for an active case. What was the point?
I fed Elsa before we took our walk. I also took out the garbage. By the time we started on our walk, it was 9:30. The weather prediction was for 72- 80 something degrees. The sky was clear, and there was a breeze. Island breezes make life worth living. The discomfort I feel due to the fall I took a week ago is getting worse, not better. I took my phone with me as I set out for my walk.
Pre-virus shut-down, I could count on getting a lift home if I needed it. Now, no one would pick me up. I needed to be able to call Yvette if I couldn't make it any further. Walking seemed to help. Well, at least it didn't interfere with my walking. I made it up to the second fire hydrant as I have been without difficulty. Because I did most of the walking on the white line at the side of the road like a tightrope walker, it completed 2,000 steps in that distance, more than I usually do.
On the way down, I decided to drop Elsa's poop bag in someone else's garbage pail; it was garbage pickup day. I reached into the container, opened a takeout box, and put it in the bag. Then I thought, you idiot! Did I just touch a contaminated object? I made a point of not touching anything else until I got home. Then I walked Elsa on-leash into the house. I wrapped her leash around my arm until I had thoroughly washed my hands. Only then did I take off her harness. Then I found the alcohol spray bottle and sprayed the handle of the retractable leash, my hand, and anything else I might have touched before I washed my hands.
While working on the blog, the sky opened up and dropped one of those torrential downpours. Then it cleared, and the sky looked innocent again.
Judy called. I told her how I had realized that there was another thing missing, the electric razor I used to groom dogs. I thought one of the people who had lived in my house had taken it. This was upsetting for the obvious reason, I didn't like people taking my possessions without my permission, but besides, I now had to worry about how I would groom Elsa myself. If this stay-at-home business continues long enough, she will need to be trimmed. I would not be able to take her to the groomer. She hates it when I work on her. She probably hates it whoever is grooming her. However, she stands still for them. Not so much for me.
I told Judy that I had dreamt I had taken something I shouldn't have from a store. It was just too much trouble to pay for it. But then I felt terrible, worthless. I felt like I didn't deserve anything good in my life because I was a terrible person. I certainly think the person who took the remote speaker and the razor from me is not good, and he sees himself the same way. He demonstrated several talents and intelligence when he was here. Nonetheless, he lived on the edge at all times. I suspect he does feel that he doesn't deserve better.
As I told Judy about feeling bad and undeserving because I had committed this act, Mike's towel fell to the floor. Mike's towel does that whenever he fears I'm in trouble. He was reminding me to dismiss my mother's voice and remember that I am a good person. I don't think I can ever remove his towel from that bathroom. It allows him to come through for me when I need him.
My tush has been hurting more. It hurts when I sit, it hurts when I lie on my back, it hurts when I walk. I'm getting concerned. When Yvette texted me to tell me she was going to town, she asked if I needed anything. I wrote to her about the increase in my discomfort. She is a massage therapist and works with injured people. She said she suspected I had bruised a bone. That's what I thought from the beginning, but I didn't know it would take this long to heal. It had been over a week now. She said the healing time for a bruised bone was six to eight weeks. Shit! As if I'm not suffering from enough limitations now. Oh, well.
I napped not so much because I was tired but because I couldn't do much else. Reading is difficult because of my eye problems. My eyes get tired quickly. It is actually easier to read at night. I think I have more problems during the day because the ambient light causes a glare. I had hoped when I had a cataract surgery that glare would be eliminated. But no, the synthetic lenses cause their own glare. Also, I had that puckered macular in my left eye and my drooping eyelids. I'm a mess.
I did manage to get moving after the nap. I washed the hallway floor. I had been afraid to tackle it because of my back. I had some problems but being assured that I wasn't doing more damage to myself by taking on this task, I pushed through.
I called my friend Jean in Arizona. She just had breast surgery for cancer. It seems her doctors evaluation of her problem was not accurate. She has a more serious problem and will require follow-up treatment. Fortunately, she seems pretty upbeat.
Sandor arrived with a delivery of food from Costco. I had proposed going out on my own. He said, "Absolutely, not!!" Let me know what you need." His parents live in Miami; he's seen what the virus can do. He brought me four (4) bags of lemons. Yay!! Apples, bananas, strawberries, a couple of cans of lentil soup, two cans of sweet corn, and what I desperately needed dog chews. I thought I had a stash but discovered last night that I didn't.
I walked Elsa before dinner. When I came home, I fed her and hung up the wash I did earlier. Dinner was whatever old salad I had left, and some stew Judy gave me an age ago that still hadn't completely defrosted. I only had a little of it. It will be good for another two to three meals. I am losing weight. Mike really did overfeed me.
While eating dinner and reading Brooks's Social Animal, the lights suddenly went out. Bam! Was this short-term, or would it be a while? If there too few people were operating the electric plant, we would be without electricity for the duration. The lights came back on after five or ten minutes.
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Musings:
Brooks says what distinguishes animals from man is that they don't pass on knowledge to their young. He cites the example of the chimp who learned to sign language and then didn't pass it on to their children. First, Washoe didn't have any children that survived more than 2 months. More importantly, why would she pass on this skill to her children.
Humans travel to other cultures, even learn other languages, and don't pass them on to their children. A skill has to serve a useful function in the home culture. I'm under the impression that chimp parents teach their children how to behave in their troop's social structure. They also teach them skills that are necessary for their survival. Do we know all that is involved in learning how to survive in an animal's environment? Just because we observe them carefully for years and years, does that mean that we are equipped to fully understand what we are looking at? I remember learning that different beehives actually speak different 'languages.' Bees need 'language' to communicate where the food sources are. Now I don't know if a baby bee from hive A could learn Hive B's language.
Man does have one trait that may distinguish him. He's adaptable. There are examples of children that have been raised by wolves; they adopt wolf movement and social rules. I would say that animals aren't capable of confusing their identity with another species, but I think I have a counterexample.
My next-door neighbors adopted a feral goat that had been abandoned by his mother immediately after birth. They then bought a baby goat from a dairy farm to keep the first goat company. For six weeks, they kept these goats in their bedroom, bottle-feeding them. They had three dogs that kept those goats company. When they were old enough to eat solid food, they were moved to a shed on the property. I asked my neighbors about releasing these animals into the wild. He said no because they thought dogs were their friends; they may even believe that they are dogs. The dogs were the adults on the scene, four-legged animals as they were. However, the goats did not adopt the dogs' lifestyle any more than they became more human in their behavior- or at least not that any one of us humans could tell.
Let me tell you, the night the goats were moved out of the bedroom was a night to remember. They brayed all night. They have quieted down and are excellent neighbors now.
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