What I’ve Done Since St. Patrick’s Day
Issue 1 - June 2020
by Dorian Yeager ~ Wordsmith in residence
Gained 20lbs. This was not my fault. It was my mother’s fault for teaching me how to cook. I especially blame my grandmother for teaching me to bake.
Started diet. Lasted until lunch. Who sees me anymore anyway and besides, I haven’t been out of pajamas since March 16th.
Set cat on fire.. Well, not the whole cat. Just the tail. And I put it out immediately, mostly. Not my fault, either. An old cat is not supposed to jump that high and whose idea was it to saunter over a votive candle, anyway? This will be covered in more detail in the chapter, “Trapped Like a Rat with Destructo-Cat.”
Started talking to people I’ve never liked. Certainly not my fault. The phone rings, the caller knows damned well I’m home and if I don’t answer they will call 911 and the paramedic will let the cat out.
Buried my fish. Let’s face it. It’s been that kind of Spring. Cried a lot.
Got new fish for the mere price of $10 plus $40 shipping. Petco was unashamed.
Started smoking after 10 years. Also not my fault. Cigarettes are less than half price in NH and my sister sends me cartons. She’s always wanted to outlive me. Her fault. Nope. My fault.
Quit smoking. This lasted the 8 hours I was asleep. Blame nature… I want to sleep 12 hours in preparation for two or three naps a day.
But noooo.Cleaned out my junk drawer.
Carefully inspected and put back everything except dead batteries, dried out rubber bands and an oyster shucker.. The miscellaneous screws, nails, thumbtacks, wire cutters and bungee cord will definitely be needed someday. If not by me, by
my heirs.Seriously thought about bringing down my summer clothes and putting away the winter.
Took a nap. There’s always tomorrow. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.
Mixed up new sourdough starter. The apartment is too dark to grow anything but yeast, anyway. Besides. My grandmother taught me to bake.
Unearthed bread maker. Couldn’t find instruction manual. Must have been in the junk drawer.
Started an exercise schedule by slapping on a pedometer and stepping up and down on a case of cat food while holding two cans of Country Cherry pie filling.
Ate the pie and fed the cats. When you stop, everything just drops 3” anyway.
Looked high and low for frozen peas. Gave up after 3 weeks. Figured they’re being hoarded by all the people with the toilet paper.
Let my hair go gray. Met Foods has a special line for the aged. The cats haven’t noticed.
Stopped looking in mirror.
Realized in 3 months I could have finished a new book.
Quashed the thought. I probably have another 3 months trapped in an apartment slightly smaller than your average cell in a Mexican prison. Besides, my agent got pregnant, moved to Singapore and my editor died. I can’t make this stuff up.
Made this list.