Syllabus #68

Even though I'm working a sort of normal schedule and days of the week now have significance and I'm accountable to others for bathing, dressing, and leaving the house at regular intervals, the weeks are blurring together.  A week lasts 18 seconds and also 9,000 years.  

Also, guys, the census is really important.  If you haven't filled out the census yet, please do it.  That being said, if one more census enumerator comes to our door asking about the vacant house next door, I'm going to start telling them it's a haunted meth lab.

You'd look out of sorts, too, if you lived in an abandoned shack next to a pile of urine-soaked mattresses

 (Mom, it's cool, this is not the vacant house next door, this is a totally different abandoned property full of feral cats)

Somebody make me a mix tape.

Yo, guys, I cooked a pork chop.  It wasn't for me.  But I hear it was damn good.  

Ah, something uncomplicated and unironically nice and joyful.  Like an oasis in the desert hellscape that is the year 2020.  Thanks, Keanu.

Why are we trying to do school in person right now?  Colleges and K-12 schools are petri dishes under the best of circumstances, come on, people.  

Heh.  Dutch Oven.  Heh.  I am here to tell you the 5th cleaning technique really does work. 

I placed my hold at the library!  I would read a refrigerator manual if Elena Ferrante wrote it, so, you know, I'm excited.

I'm not normally a litigious person, but yes, please, sue the ever-loving shit out of them.  

Things that make you ask - what the actual fucking fuck? 

Watching:

Drunk Parents on Netflix.  I'm just glad the movie came in at an hour and 45 minutes.  I have a rule with shitty movies - waste 1-2 hours of my time, shame on you.  Squander more than 120 minutes of my actual life on a movie that makes no sense, has continuity issues, and isn't that funny, shame on me.  

Analog Reading:

Finished Rick Steves' For the Love of Europe.  Or was that last week?  Honest to Christ I can't remember.

Read Samantha Irby's Meaty.  Laughed out loud, wished we were friends, you know the drill.  The essay about her mother, though - devastating.

Midway through Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates.  I wish we had come further as a society since this book came out in 2015, but sadly, every moment of 2020 has been an appropriate moment to read this book.