Since all of my travel and appointments collapsed due to the virus panic, I saw no particular reason to remain in Seattle over the weekend. So I went out to Sunset for a few days to tend to my chickens, which included repairing and cleaning out the henhouse and expanding the chicken yard. The henhouse is now entirely contained within the expanded yard, which should prevent any fences from being destroyed by a certain pony scratching herself on it, and keep a certain pig from pushing the door open and eating all the chicken feed. We’re also in the process of staining the bookcases, and watched a couple of movies while stoned. Our usual practice is to pick a movie with a light or very familiar plot, bright colors, and lots of music; this time our selections were The Wizard of Oz and Earth Girls Are Easy; I had completely forgotten just how Eighties the latter was (and despite owning the DVD, I’m not sure I’ve actually seen it since I did in the theater 32 years ago; I don’t usually like romantic comedies but I had kind of a thing for Julie Brown). That’s about all I have to tell, except that the proof for The Essential Maggie McNeill, Volume II has arrived, and I’ll be reading it this week before going out to Sunset again to wait for all the politicians to stop turning an epidemic into a pissing contest.
Diary #507
March 17, 2020 by Maggie McNeill
Posted in Diary | Tagged animals, disease, drugs, imaginative fiction, politicians, Sunset, The Essential Maggie McNeill, Washington (state) | 1 Comment
One Response
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All original content on this website (i.e. all of my columns, pages and anything else which I write myself) is protected under international copyright law as of the time it is posted; though you may link to it as you please or quote passages (as long as you attribute the quote to me), please do not reproduce whole columns without my express written permission. In other words, you have to say “pretty please with sugar on top” first, and then wait for me to say “okey-dokey”.
I liked your closer “turning an epidemic into a pissing contest.” My best turn of a phrase recently is “pandemic of panic.” I got a series of texts from a lady i know in London who apparently has a lot of free time now (she has never exchanged “chatty” texts with me before). She says the hotels are all empty and bleeding money, but I don’t think she has the option to retreat somewhere and literally tend to her livestock. Strange times.Take care of you, we need your voice.