Unexpected Chaos

When I woke this morning, my day lay sparsely in front me, much like yesterday was, much like tomorrow will be.  I took Niko on a long walk in the park;  the only scheduled event on the calendar was a Zoom lunch with another retired colleague. She is a physiologist, I am an organic chemist, and we collaborated on issues of women in science and ran science workshops that made science available to traditionally underserved  groups of middle schoolers, girls and kids in the cities.

But I have a friend in a neighboring town with a wonderful garden, and today is her birthday. I calculated that I could visit her at a physical distance of six feet, take some photos of the newest bloomers in her garden beds, wish her happy birthday, and be back home by noon. Alas, I lingered past the appropriate departure time; at the last minute I decided to photograph a unique primrose that had cross-fertilized in her garden, her own private primrose sport. So I texted my colleague and told her I would Zoom up at 12:15. No surprise – she was flexible. I packed up my camera and set off on the twenty-minute drive home.

When the bridge over the Connecticut River drew near, so did the ominous sight of cars sheltering in place. Construction of a roundabout on the other side of the bridge had reached fever pitch, lanes were closed, lights flashed, people in yellow vests sauntered here and there, dump trucks, scrapers, back hoes all lumbered about their tasks, rearranging roadbeds and moving dirt and rocks from one pile to another.

We sat, inched along, merged to one lane, and sat some more. It took forty-five minutes to travel a half mile. For a lovely minute our two, before merger, I traveled alongside a very happy Samoyed who posed elegantly for the entertainment of the rest of us.

I pulled into my garage at 12:51,  just as a text dinged in from a friend who was soon to be passing by the back gate with Niko's best friend. Could they drop by? Both Niko and Sunny are optimally bored and confused by the lack of people and admirers in their lives, and when they visit together, it is the high point of their week.

I went in, Zoomed my colleague, and told her about the visitors that were about to join our call, albeit at a distance.

Niko has bones and other hard things to chew on that Sunny loves. She always goes into the house, takes a tour of every room, comes back down to Niko's stash of stuff, picks out the bone for the day, and skips triumphantly back into the yard. Their game is always a dance. Sunny chews with wild abandon, Niko pretends not to be interested. Sunny looks away, Niko makes his move and dashes off with the prize. Sunny follows, until Niko leaves the bone unguarded, and Sunny takes possession. I could watch them all day in this game.

Somewhere in the middle of this cat and mouse dog game, my brain fried and I Zoomed off; my colleague and I decided we would look for another, quieter time for lunch at a distance. She had actually ended up eating her lunch before we connected, and my lunch was still far in the future.

Sunny's person had work to do, and they left, much to Sunnys distress.

Noon (+ or -) Friday: Friend, traffic, friend, friend, dogs at play. I had declined another noon meeting to learn the ins and outs of a communication sharing board because of the already scheduled lunch..

When my lunch came, it was exceedingly good. Sliced egg sandwich, cream cheese and crackers, peanut butter on Graham crackers, lemon ginger tea, and a chocolate covered toffee I had found hidden away in the bread box,

What a great day!