Day 3 of captivity. Time is starting to drag now, my days and nights determined by the sunlight peeking through the clouds. The men keeping me captive walk the halls of this stripped and soggy building, talking loudly to each other in a language I don't understand. The machines they use are grinding a low hum- worse than constant laundry- somehow bigger, reminding me that we are the only people living on this floor. The 6 surrounding units evacuated, us left unscathed by the flood we are punished by being left here alone. The men entering units while knocking, forget this unit is still occupied. And me who likes to write in my pajamas, yelling: "Hold on!", scaring my sickly cell mate, who wants to sleep all day and cry all night. It's been days since I felt at ease... I like ease. No man shall be left behind, but I gotta get outta here. The animal paces when she awakes, banging into walls, door frames and getting caught on corners. There is an eeriness to her gait, the sad and familiar tinker toes with the gruesome cone snags and bangs. Her pile of blankets twisted into a sad and smelly nest.
The phone has been quiet, no word from the outside world. Except the get better texts, no work, no auditions, no play dates. I think the world knows we're in quarantine, on total lockdown. In an effort to feel less captive, and more stay-cation-ey, I gave my self an at home spa day... well, let's just say, at home disaster day. An intensive hair reconstruction treatment- that left my hair heavy and looking like I groom with a combination of seal blubber oil and adolescent insecurity. I soaked, trimmed, shaped and buffed my nails to an appropriate ukulele length (though it may be a few more days until I play as my pupparoo is always sleeping*insert air strum). This didn't go well. I cut my thumb, pointer and middle finger nails WAY too low and split the pinky one, and my cuticles are uber-dry from the change in seasons and lack of attention! As for my feet? Les sigh. These tender tootsies have been in winter boots with bamboo socks that give me splinters, so I again soaked, trimmed, buffed and shaped them- taking extra care to work off those calluses. Oh wait, only to walk the 10 steps my dog can take and stub my big toe- fracturing my big toe nail and maiming me.
My mother says there's never a dull moment with our family, and when things get overwhelming she's right. But when we're on a roll, I mean when we're really cooking, it's hard to stop us. I guess the tough thing about being a juggernaut is that it doesn't matter what direction you're going in- cause you're going all the way. I remember the sunny days, and I know I will see them again soon. I will get to snuggle Jilly, who will have grown all her hair back, in a building that has no water damage, with shiny, healthy hair and fingers and toes that belong in a spa magazine, oh yes, the time will come. But for now, I must wait for the damn machines in the hallway to stop screaming and be a quiet and vigilante cell mate, planning our escape. Leaving no man behind, except maybe hubby, he's normally a home body.
The phone has been quiet, no word from the outside world. Except the get better texts, no work, no auditions, no play dates. I think the world knows we're in quarantine, on total lockdown. In an effort to feel less captive, and more stay-cation-ey, I gave my self an at home spa day... well, let's just say, at home disaster day. An intensive hair reconstruction treatment- that left my hair heavy and looking like I groom with a combination of seal blubber oil and adolescent insecurity. I soaked, trimmed, shaped and buffed my nails to an appropriate ukulele length (though it may be a few more days until I play as my pupparoo is always sleeping*insert air strum). This didn't go well. I cut my thumb, pointer and middle finger nails WAY too low and split the pinky one, and my cuticles are uber-dry from the change in seasons and lack of attention! As for my feet? Les sigh. These tender tootsies have been in winter boots with bamboo socks that give me splinters, so I again soaked, trimmed, buffed and shaped them- taking extra care to work off those calluses. Oh wait, only to walk the 10 steps my dog can take and stub my big toe- fracturing my big toe nail and maiming me.
My mother says there's never a dull moment with our family, and when things get overwhelming she's right. But when we're on a roll, I mean when we're really cooking, it's hard to stop us. I guess the tough thing about being a juggernaut is that it doesn't matter what direction you're going in- cause you're going all the way. I remember the sunny days, and I know I will see them again soon. I will get to snuggle Jilly, who will have grown all her hair back, in a building that has no water damage, with shiny, healthy hair and fingers and toes that belong in a spa magazine, oh yes, the time will come. But for now, I must wait for the damn machines in the hallway to stop screaming and be a quiet and vigilante cell mate, planning our escape. Leaving no man behind, except maybe hubby, he's normally a home body.
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