Fri. June 19, 2020: Die For Your Employer/Die for Tourist Dollars Day 32 — Dumbass White Women Tourists

Friday, June 19, 2020
Day Before Dark Moon
Pluto Retrograde
Saturn Retrograde
Venus Retrograde
Jupiter Retrograde
Mercury Retrograde
Sunny and hot
Juneteenth

Sorry this is late. Busy morning.

I want to smack some of these local racists upside the head, complaining that there’s any acknowledgement of Juneteenth. And the insistence that the hate rally go on tomorrow in Tulsa is revolting.

WBZ News Radio is lying about cases in MA going down. The numbers are better, but I’m tracking the daily numbers, and they are headed back up. Not as fast as I thought they would, but they’re moving up again.

Restaurants can have people dine inside starting next week. I won’t be one of them. Not for a long, long time.

Yoga studios are talking about opening for classes and letting people take off their masks as soon as they’re on their mats. Um, no. In an enclosed space? Six feet isn’t far enough apart, even WITH masks. I won’t be an a space where people take their masks off and do fire breath. No effing way.

Yesterday was fine. Client work in the morning, Freelance Chat, reading in the afternoon. Some plotting and percolating on a couple of projects. It’s always difficult to explain how the percolation process works. It’s mental mapping, or clustering, or organizing. One idea leads to the next and the next and the next, and suddenly, there’s a piece and I scramble to write notes before I lose it.

I got some planting done in the afternoon, too: more cucumbers, lettuce, mixed greens, two kinds of sunflowers, beans. I hope to get some peas planted on Sunday, which is the next planting day.

Was awakened around midnight by sirens. Lots and lots of sirens. Don’t’ know what was going on.

Amazon is being bitchy about the refund. They gave me the refund; now they want to rescind it. I guess that’s it for me and Amazon, although I like using them to support authors with books on Kindle. But their lack of customer service and their customer-screwing policies are not acceptable.

Up early. Geared up and loaded the car, headed to the dump for the recycling. Dropped everything off. One of the guys who works there was very upset. He said, in all the months he’s been on shift, I’m the only one who respects social distancing. By January or February, he expects to be either very sick of dead. It’s not fair to put employees through that.

Ban the bitches who won’t follow the guidelines.

Made a quick stop at Shaw’s – and, yes, it could be quick. I only needed a few things, there was no line, everyone was masked and distancing, easy peasy in and out. Trader Joe’s next – again, I timed it so there wasn’t a line. In and out in 20 minutes. I needed a bit more, but I was able to focus and get it done.

Almost like pre-pandemic days.

But the majority of the license plates are out of state, and you KNOW these bitches aren’t quarantining for 14 days. It’s the tourists who are causing a problem at the grocery store. One chickie poo tried to run in to Trader Joe’s without a mask, jumping the line (as I was going out, a line had formed), saying she just needed to run in for a few things to go to the beach and it would just take a minute. No, bitch. Put on your mask and get in line.

Another chick (because most of the badly-behaved I’ve encountered are not only other women, but other WHITE women) came up to me as I was loading the car and said, “Oh, just give me your mask so I can go into the store. You don’t need it anymore.”

At this point in the game? That’s like asking me to give her my underwear. No. Just no.

Home, full disinfectant protocols for all the items and for me. Even though it was early in the day, I was exhausted.

Taking care of some admin, finishing laundry, working on the book for review, maybe doing some mending this afternoon.

My NEW YORKER subscription has started, and I’m so pleased. Can’t wait to read the issue that arrived yesterday (and is in quarantine).

Hoping I get in some good writing sessions and some good basement-purging sessions.

Juneteenth ritual later tonight, and, tomorrow, it’s the Summer Solstice. With a solar eclipse. And then we start losing daylight every day.

Next week will be challenging, both mentally and physically. I’m doing what I need for my and my family’s wellbeing, and to hell with everyone else.

Have a great weekend.

Fri. June 12, 2020: Die For Your Employer/Die For Tourist Dollars Day 25 – I Was “That One” Unfortunately

Friday, June 12, 2020
Waning Moon
Pluto Retrograde
Venus Retrograde
Saturn Retrograde
Jupiter Retrograde
Rainy and humid

The writing has not gone well this week, and that’s sent me off-balance in everything else. I have been frustrated and angry and unproductive on too many fronts.

At least yesterday, I got in some decent client work, got out some LOIs, and participated in a lively Freelance Chat.

The two books recommended to me that I bought the other day turn out to be written in present tense, so that’s a no-go for me. Not returning them, though, because the authors should get their royalties. That was me going on a recommendation instead of actually reading a sample before I bought, and on me.

Read a charming book by Elizabeth Hunter called SUDDENLY PSYCHIC. I liked it a lot, especially the friendship among the three women.

I also finished reading Lilith St. Crow’s novella about a kangaroo shifter and a witch, set in LA, which was really fun.

The vendor of the missing package sent the daily email swearing it would be delivered last night. Of course, it wasn’t. I pitched a massive fit and got a refund. Because asking nicely all week to get a solution to this problem did nothing. I hate being “that one” who pitches a fit, but customer service reps just shrug and say there’s nothing they can do. Then they’re not “customer service” reps – they’re representing the business interests, not helping the customer. So I was relentless, until I got the refund. Well, partial refund. This company never gives full refunds.

They told me to go ahead and keep the stuff when it arrives, but it’s never going to arrive, so I won’t worry about it.

Which is fine. It was stuff I wanted, that was both useful and would give me pleasure. It wasn’t necessities.

So let the package sit on the truck for damn ever and not be delivered. My money’s been returned, and I’m done.

UPS has made ONE BILLION dollars in profit so far this year, according to the report TDU got their hands on. They made a killing (pun intended) during the pandemic.

They can damn well drive a package 11 miles in a week.

Hell, with that kind of profits, they could hire a private driver and get it personally delivered.

So, yeah, losing my business won’t hurt them one little bit. But not doing businesses with companies who use them will make my life less stressful.

PS — I got the daily email from the vendor, again swearing the package would be delivered today. I just laughed, and moved on with my day. Never gonna happen. It will never be delivered. At this point, I’m okay with it. I’ll just ignore the emails. Not delete them — I’ll keep them as evidence. But not actually expect the delivery and rearrange my day for it.

The Narcissistic Sociopath is having one of his hate rallies In Tulsa, OK on Juneteenth. The date and location of the 1921 race massacre.

Of course it’s deliberate.

What a loathsome individual.

At the same time, I am not participating in the social media campaign to send him hurtful photos on his birthday. That’s mean to be mean, and demeaning to everyone involved. I won’t do it. Or support it.

Still no local coverage of Tuesday’s processional. The lack of coverage in itself is racist. Typical for this area.

Today, will try to get back on track with the writing. If the storm clears out and the light is good enough, some mending or sewing. By the time I was done on the computer yesterday, the clouds had come in, and the light wasn’t good enough for sewing. Let’s hope this weekend is better. I’m eager to see if I retain any of those wardrobian skills. I was never a brilliant stitcher, but I’m better at building from scratch than at alterations.

Still haven’t found the catalyst for the Susanna Centlivre play. Need to do some more digging. The book I have isn’t helping as much as I thought it would.

Onward, one word at a time. Best we can do.

Have a great weekend. I didn’t do so well with my intent this week. So let’s hope it gets better next week.