So here we are in week six? . . . twelve?. . . three thousand? . . . of our lockdown and I am trying very hard to keep my sense of humor. Over the weeks I've made a few, what I thought were super funny, remarks to The Man and he does't even smile. (This confinement may be getting to him!) My "funny" for this morning was when I woke up and looked in the mirror. There stood Big Bird from Sesame Street looking back at me. OK, so I wasn't yellow, (Thank God!), but my hair was sticking straight up like the feathers on the head of my favorite Sesame Street character. . . Big Bird.
I REALLY did look just like him, just as large and fluffy, (which is a polite way of saying FAT), with hair, (feathers) sticking out in all different directions. I don't know how I was sleeping but it must have been a wild night to come out looking like that. As I came into the kitchen The Man was sitting pondering something over his fourth cup of coffee and twelfth donut. I gave him my most glowing smile and said, "Look at me . . .I look like Big Bird". NOTHING . . . . Not a smile, chuckle or twitch of the lip. Either he hasn't a clue who Big Bird is or he was inside his "Nothing Box". (The Man is spending a LOT of time in his nothing box these days.) I think it may have something to do with me but I can't be a hundred percent sure. Just cause I walk around making stupid, silly remarks all day is no reason to ignore me. Well, maybe it is but at least give me some warning that you are shutting down so I don't waste time trying to get your attention. Actually this morning Mr. Man was wrapped up in a letter he received last week. It took him a week to ponder the contents of the letter but as soon as I walked into the room, (looking like BB), he needed me to assist him in contacting the bank that had sent the letter to him. Now I had just crawled out of bed and was really not up to doing anything that required any amount of thought. (And I was still enjoying cracking myself up over my Big Bird likeness. ) I had yet to pee and brush my teeth, never mind brush my hair, which I had decided I liked and may never brush it again. But The Man required assistance right then and there. You need to understand that this man, like the previous man in my life, is computer illiterate except for face book. (Ger couldn't even turn the computer on so I guess D is ahead of the game.) But as soon as anything requires the slightest deviation from the tried and true process of turning the tablet on and pressing ONE button we need to call in Tech Support, which in this case came looking like a big yellow bird from Sesame Street. (Are you getting a sense of how much I cracked myself up over this hair do today?) Anyway . . . I stopped and tried to get a sense of what the latest crisis was and what was needed of me. Sounds simple . . . it's not !!! The Man has a habit of starting sentences in the middle with the expectation that I know what was whirling around in his brain prior to his opening his mouth. Usually I can pick up clues and get a sense of where this is going and what is being required of me. This was not the case this morning because my brain was no longer functioning at full capacity. (I think my brain started to atrophy about three weeks ago and it's been a rapid downhill slide since.) Once I finally ascertained the issue we were ready to roll into the world of computer chaos. Not being a computer savvy guy does not slow the man down one bit. He will stand over my shoulder watching what I am doing and offering his helpful hints, such as, "No NO ! Stop there! I saw what we wanted!", only to discover it was an advertisement for hemorrhoid cream. So on we go with this process as I patiently stop every three seconds to explain that what we are looking at is not what we need. It's a long and grueling ten minutes until we finally arrive at the information needed which, had I been doing this alone, I would have come to about nine minutes earlier.
In order to keep my sanity I inject a small comment here and there to lighten the situation. These fly past The Man with the speed of a fighter jet breaking the sound barrier. I don't get any reaction at all because he has not heard a thing I have said. Which actually it to my benefit because I'm sure most of my comments would have to be explained. But at least I am entertaining myself enormously.
Do you think that's one of the signs of loosing your mind ?????
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