“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 818 (Sunday) – airborne

It was a lazy day, mostly because I really needed another day of not doing anything. The day's only commitment, the Sunday drive to dance class with the stop at the farm stand on the way back, was cancelled, because, as much as I enjoy it, today I just couldn't.

It’s possible it’s burnout from being busy and driving all over the place on the vacation I desperately needed after feeling completely burned out at work. Maybe it was sticker shock from Saturday’s gas purchase that helped to explode the monthly budget in the first few days of the month. Maybe, maybe, blah, blah … We could guess at this all day, but there still won’t be actual answers so there is no real point in wasting any more time on it.

It was a pajama-clad morning with coffee and Wordle, where I got today’s answer in three guesses. The current Wordle game streak is 58 games played and a win rate of 98%, and one game won in two guesses. On the old phone, I had 65 games played, a win rate of 100%, and six games won with two guesses. It appears that I am getting dumber. This is backed by additional evidence and won't even be disputed.

Diving into the book club selection.

The pajamas were finally exchanged for the “not leaving the house today” ensemble after Winston needed to go out for the third or fourth time and I became self-conscious about neighbors seeing me in my pajamas in the doorway (again). Once dressed, I sat on the couch, armed with a big glass of water and read the June book club selection. The cover quote by Taylor Jenkins Reid calls it “A rom-com lover's dream of a book,” which makes it something I would never pick up on my own, and that is exactly what I like about book club.

The day was sunny and breezy, bordering on kind of windy. The book is also on the breezy side except when it takes a deeper dive into the stupid romance crap. 

In a break from reading about people constantly arching their eyebrows, touching knees, and having racing hearts, the hose was hauled out to wash a couple runners that technically can go into a washer, just not mine, which doesn’t seem to be large enough to do a decent job. Once a year, the runners are taken outside and hosed down, washed with a scrub bush and soap, and draped over the deck rail to air dry. The other option is to chuck them and buy new ones, but I hate shopping. The breezy day seemed like it would expedite the free and natural drying process.

After the backyard laundromat closed and the hose was returned to the shed, I read on the deck. It was a pleasant few minutes, protected from sunburn by the shade of the deck umbrella until the breezes, which normal people with normal body temperatures and constitutions would probably find exceedingly pleasant, drove me inside for a sweatshirt.

Umm... yikes.

For whatever reason, I donned the sweatshirt, then sat on the couch to read. There was a weird noise outside and I figured either one of the rugs fell off the railing or one of the next door neighbors was moving something. There was a U-Haul parked on one side, yard work happening on the other side.  Plus, Monday is trash day, so Sundays always feature sundry neighborhood trash preparation noises. There was no screaming or moaning to indicate anyone was injured, so I kept reading.

When I finally went outside a couple quick chapters later, a rug had indeed fallen off the rail, but a bit more had occurred. The umbrella had been lifted out of the pole stand under the table and launched up and out of the hole in the table. Part of the umbrella lay across the chair I had been sitting in until I got chilly and went inside.

The full potential of the flight of the patio umbrella seems to have been curtailed when it became lodged in the opening of the deck to the back yard. It was lifted high enough for about three feet of pole to rise up and clear the table, and seems to have had some rotational action, as the pole was spun to the outside of the deck.

The landing after the
 flight of the umbrella.

It must have been a magnificent sight to see and I’m hovering between sad to have missed witnessing the airborne spectacle of the umbrella, while also glad I wasn’t still sitting in the chair where part of it landed. It is far more likely I would have been clocked in the head than able to jump up and grab the pole as it lifted from the stand. The scary part is, it wasn't even that windy -- ten miles per hour and not storm gales and gusts. Or maybe what felt like a month of wind during all of May has me numb to normal wind speeds.

Apparently, the one magical screw in the base that is supposed to hold the pole in place in the stand wasn’t locked down tight enough when we set it up on Monday. That was my job, crawling under the table to tighten the screw. Oops. Yesterday seemed windier, so it's a bit of a surprise it didn't happen then. And today is just another of those days where it would be nice to have someone besides myself to blame for some of the stuff that goes on around here.