Life In The Future: Parking And Doing The Hard Stuff To Make Life Easier

 

https://plexido.pl/

In my New York Times newsletter last week, writer Melissa Kirsch wrote about "doing the harder thing now so that you’ll have an easier time later...a fundamental concept in self-improvement communities." One example she gave was backing into a parking spot, an oddity noted by a colleague who wrote up his investigation into this apparently growing phenomenon. The article is short and, despite its seemingly boring subject, pretty interesting. 

I (along with the writer's wife!) still maintain that the majority of backer-inners are men who A) just like to show off; or B) feel that it's a Rite Of Their Masculinity And They Simply Must Do It. Also, I don't get it. Parking the car involves two actions, the initial parking and the leaving of the parking spot. Does it really matter which one you do when? You aren't saving any time. Or effort, really. It just seems stupid to me.

One year, I told my husband that all I wanted for Christmas was for him to back my car into the garage every single night. I hate backing out of our garage and down our driveway. It's not a straight shot, our neighbours erected a fence partway down on their property, we have a drainage pipe along the side of the house that is required by the city, and even with a backup camera, it is always irritating for me. What a joy it would be for me to simply drive out of my side of the garage and into the street! Sadly, I did not find that gift under our tree.

In days past I always parked in faraway spots wherever I went. I refused to make looking for a parking spot part of my shopping trips. Many times that meant that I could simply pull through to the spot in front of me, assuring that I didn't have to back out at all, even when it was time for me to leave. It also meant a bit of walking, which has always been my preferred form of exercise anyway. It also meant that I didn't have to sit in my car and wait around for anyone to back into his parking spot or sit there and wait while some idiot sat there with their blinker on, waiting for the person still loading their bags into their car in a prime spot to actually leave.

Aside from Parking and all its attendant This And Thats, I do believe in doing some harder things proactively so that Future Me has an easier time of it, and it was a habit I started as a much younger person, mainly because I hated mornings and wanted to get as much sleep as possible. Back when I was a kid, I used to put a chair right at the side of my bed and put my entire outfit for the next day on it. Many, many times, I'd even pull it on while I was still lying in bed, so loath I was to actually get up and admit that I had to start my day. It's a little embarrassing to admit how often I'd lie there, fully dressed, waiting for the exact last minute that I had to get out of bed and get downstairs before I risked being late.

As a career woman I still chose my clothes and readied them the night before. Anything I needed to take with me was placed in my school bag, a huge tote that also contained almost anything needed for any exigency that Future Me might encounter. Teaching in a huge urban school presented enough opportunities for stress; I was determined to head off any that I reasonably could.

Retired Me is still looking for opportunities to reduce stress and make my environment serene. Future Me does not want to wake up to a messy kitchen or unfolded laundry even though I have all day to do things. I also ready my coffeemaker so that all I have to do is push a button in the morning for my coffee whenever Future Me may want it. Mail passes through my hands only once; I act upon it immediately. Piles and clutter drive me nuts. 

Rick is not this way. His tolerance for piles of clutter and mail and clothes is much higher than mine. Future Him is the same as Present Him, pretty much, unless you count the carpentry rule of Measure Twice, Cut Once. He wonders at my lack of Patience in all things but our grandson and our sons. I tell him I do, too. For the record, he does not back into parking spaces, even if I am not with him in the car. He thinks it's stupid and rude. For the record, he does pull through into the spot ahead once in a while.   

Hello! Five On The Fifteenth Of February

from here

Oh, hello.

Welcome to February, which I understand has been ongoing for quite some time now. Please forgive my absence here, but I do have good reasons--at least, I think I do--and I'll do my best to catch you up, chat you up, and otherwise engage you for a few minutes. Let's on, shall we?

1. My Part-Time Job:  As you may remember, Jared, Jordan, and Theo moved last month. Jared had surgery on his broken foot and is not allowed to bear any weight on it at all. Theo is a Very Busy Toddler All The Time, so Rick and I have been going over to their house to help with child care/entertainment. Tomorrow, Jared sees the orthopedist again, and may be put in a walking boot. If so, we will be laid off or have our hours cut considerably. If not, our contract will be renewed. 

2. My Streak:  On 8 February my Wordle streak ended at 344 with the word EMBED. Am I still bitter? A little bit, yes. I guess it pales in comparison to other things that happened on that same day, however, which include a fatal Learjet crash in Philadelphia, a 7.6 magnitude earthquake near the Cayman Islands, and a deadly bus crash in Mexico. Additionally, Kendrick Lamar and Beyoncé won top Grammy honors, and the 49th Imam of Nizari Isma'ilism, Aga Khan IV, passed away. Still, though, kind of a big deal.

3. My Hypocrisy:  I'm sure I have said this many times and in the Comments of so many of your blogs:  I am not a puzzle person. I don't enjoy jigsaw puzzles. They feel too much like work to me. Sigh. Behold my latest lesson in Eating My Words:

I bought this 1000-piece puzzle on a whim ages ago from my grocery store's Closeouts section, thinking I'd take it to the lake for whiling away the unexpectedly rainy days. Or, I thought, maybe Rick would like to pick away at it when he's bored during retirement. During the neverending string of freezing cold and snowy days, I pulled it out and set it on the dining room table. Pretty soon, Rick was seated at it, reading glasses perched on his nose, fitting pieces here and there. The next thing I knew, I was drawn to it like squirrels to a feeder, stopping at it every time I passed by, searching for pieces to fit, making it a competition. Poor Sam! Every time he stopped over, we made him find a piece to place before he could leave. One night, when we were close to Victory, we sat there, determined to finish it and completely forgot about dinner until 8 PM and ended up scrounging a few scraps (I think I had toast). When we sent the above photo to Sam via text, he responded with only two words, what now? 

4. My High Dudgeon:  I just read a post over at maya's place in which she mentioned the latest film version of Wuthering Heights.  Let me just say this:  I WILL NOT BE SEEING THIS MOVIE. I've read several articles about it already, and no thank you. In this article from the NYT, the writer discusses the casting of Jacob Elordi, a white actor, as Heathcliff, who is described by author Emily Bronte as dark and gypsy, leading readers to believe he is not white. This casting is nothing new. Heathcliff has been played by white actors every time this novel has been committed to the big screen. Would it have been exciting had he been played by a man of colour? Absolutely. Is this why I'm eschewing this film? No. This review tells me all I need to know, and that is that the director has decided to Improve Upon Emily Bronte and, really, Tell Her Own Version Of Wuthering Heights, which she thinks is better somehow, yet still call it Wuthering Heights. Nope. I'm not going through THAT again. Been there, done that with the 1995 film version of The Scarlet Letter, a classic novel which I taught for decades. That movie, with Demi Moore as Hester Prynne, almost killed me. Not only did they change the ending--which changed the themes and Puritan ethos and criticism at the heart of the book--they added characters and scenes that were completely aside from the story. I almost walked out, but I felt compelled to stay so that I could one day give a lecture TO EVERYONE about exactly how horrible that movie was. Thankfully, someone else did it for me, but I'm still willing.

I was equally outraged once before, and that was at The Shaw Festival in Ontario, Canada. Rick and I had chosen to see a performance of The Crucible by Arthur Miller. I had taught this play for decades as well as part of my American Literature curriculum and was excited to see it live. It was a terrific production until Act III. You see, I had taught this play so many times, and remember, at least two or three times a day for years and years, that I had it memorized. Memorized so well, in fact, that I knew the very moment during the performance of Act III that the director added a line to the script. This man ADDED A LINE TO THE WORK OF AN AMERICAN DRAMA LEGEND LIKE ARTHUR MILLER. I was beyond aghast. I was personally affronted. How dare they? I could see why they may have added the line; it made a part of the scene a little clearer perhaps for people who were getting lost in all the chaos of the afflicted girls. Still, to me that's no excuse. As another great dramatist once said:

from Spotify

5. My Musings:  All this talk about The Classics has me thinking about them. About reading them again and wanting to talk about them. I do miss that about teaching. I recently met up with a former Creative Writing student and we talked about, oh, Everything, and we talked about poetry and contemporary poets and writing and it made me miss teaching that, too. I'm very committed to Retirement, however, and I'm not able to predict my energy/pain level enough to commit to anything else. Good heavens, I have a hard enough time committing to this blog on even a semi-regular basis, and that's nothing new. Still, I may have to add a few Old Timers to my Book Cellar* for comfort reads. 

*I've decided to call my TBR pile my Book Cellar now. Like wines, my books are kept lovingly until the right time, the right occasion, or the right pairing for selection. I'd like to say I thought of this, but I read this term someplace else.

I think we're all caught up. As usual, I do so want to hear from you in Comments about All Of This and so many other things. Thank you for being here, and I also want to thank so many of you who have kindly sent me helpful and supportive emails containing research articles and links. I am so grateful and awed that you have taken time out of your lives to do this for me. It means the world. I have always said that my Readers are Exceptional People, and you continue to prove just that. Again, thank you.

5 From The Frozen Tundra: Is This My Life Now?

 

from fbook via google

Let me just say right here and right now:  the eventual spring of 2026 had better be one hell of a lovely, warm, beautiful one. And the sooner the better. I have had it with this winter and all of this abusive effing snow. And painful wind. And helplessly hoping that someday the temperature will rise to the lofty heights of The Twenties Fahrenheit. My heating pad is my constant companion.

If you are one of those crazies who Thinks Snow Is So Pretty, or Loves Winter, or Goes Skiing Or Sledding, or Just Loves Winter Cozy Time, DON'T YOU DARE SAY A WORD ABOUT ANY OF THAT TO ME. I AM NOT IN THE MOOD. 

Thank you.

I am fighting this winter with every fibre in my body. It is not going well. Aside from that, what else have I been doing? Let's have a review.

1. I finally read The Correspondent. I read the review that Julie wrote, and she enthusiastically urged me to buy the book, and I'm glad she did. It was wonderful. During this illness and during wintertime, I have trouble focusing/concentrating and mushbrain, and I worried that I wouldn't be able to fully immerse myself in it. That was not the case. This book was so engaging and charming, and I found myself at times identifying so strongly with the titular character. After reading it, it was immediately and lovingly placed on my Favourite Books shelf. Now I'm reading a scholarly nonfiction work called Dark Renaissance about the life and times of Christopher Marlowe, playwright, poet, genius, and spy of Elizabethan England who was murdered before the age of 30. We'll see if I can juggle it along with The Age of Innocence for CBBC.

2. Over the weekend we had the ridiculous snowstorm. On Monday Jared and Jordan moved to their new home during the leftovers of the storm. (And poor Jared has a broken foot that needs surgery this week, and has been in a walking boot for weeks.) While the movers trooped in and out of the house with all the stuff, I was in charge of Theo. Rick had gone over earlier to snowblow their driveway. It snowed the whole day, and the front door and back door had to be open the whole time. I wore my heated coat. Theo stood at the front window watching them bring items in, excited about seeing all their things coming to The New House. At other times, we played Airport and Airplane in his parents' big walk-in closet. This is a very happy move:  not only will they be less than 20 minutes away instead of an hour, they needed the extra room because Theo will be a big brother in August. If he has his way, the new baby will be named Crocodile.

3. I have been to my doctors--two of them in two days this month. All I can say is that it's devastating to hear two days in a row from medical professionals that there really isn't anything they or medical science can do for me. I am in a sort of dead zone of medicine. There is new research ongoing, mostly due to Long Covid, so that's at least something. But right now, aside from some stronger muscle relaxers that can help with my pain at night, there's nothing. I've learned how to rest, but it still feels like giving up to me. Even showering can wear me out. And I used to shovel the driveway and take my walk on the same day!

4. And speaking of those Rest Days, I have actually gone without my mascara on those days! I used to think that was a Venial Sin pretty much, but now, I just don't care. AND! I don't wear real clothes on those days, either. I wear a Lounge Outfit and a cardigan. I mainly do this for the technicality; no one can accuse me of wearing my jammies all day if I am officially wearing a Lounge Outfit and a cardigan (even though it looks and feels like I am doing just that). Rick enthusiastically supports this and says ridiculous things like, "You look great!" and "I tell you all the time that you don't need makeup", but the most important thing he says is, "Why bother when you're not going anywhere?" and this is the comment that really sells it for me. I mean, duh.

5. Can you nap? I mean, actually fall asleep during the day? I cannot, and I never have been able to. Obviously, it would be very helpful these days, but try as I might, I just can't. Right now, Rick is sleeping on the couch; it's 4:30 and Judge Judy is yammering, but he's sound asleep. His breathing is heavy and deep. It happened almost instantly--one moment he was talking about being sleepy, and the next he was doing it! Sleeping, just like that. I also cannot put a blanket on over my clothes. It just feels awful to me. I can, however, put a blanket over my Lounge Outfit. It's completely different somehow. (Just now, Rick said very clearly, "Should we go in and start dinner pretty soon?" FROM A DEAD SLEEP. How? I DON'T GET IT.)

Dinner. Ugh. I have been shopping for, thinking about, planning, prepping, cooking, and cleaning up after Dinners for almost FORTY-FIVE YEARS. I am starting to feel about Dinner like I do about Winter. It's almost abusive and brutal anymore. WHEN WILL IT END? How can I continue to endure it? Sigh. I might have Rick clear the ten feet of snow away from the grill and have him start making Dinner. I've had enough.