No, I haven’t been abducted by aliens nor have I flown the coup with my new lockdown buddy, Cuckoo (the clock). I wish. The borders were closed, there were massive restrictions and I was trapped in Le Claustrophobic Apartment with a crazy old bird and an entire ménagerie of dust bunnies. To make matters even worse, my Chardonnay imbibing pal, the Fly on the Wall, called it quits and flew off to rehab. Even the Mouse in the House was nowhere to be found, choosing to instead cozy with the cat next door. Sigh. It’s been that type of year. Or two. But, then, who’s counting?
It’s kind of entertainingly funny, but, in reality, it’s actually not.
My post-pandemic life. How to go forward and make sense of it all?
I’m flailing, sailing the unchartered seas without a compass or an updated 2022 map.
How do I navigate the uncertainty of what comes next? Where do I go from here?
Do I want to remain stuck in the past or forge a new path on the road to anew?
Embracing nostalgia and reminiscing about “the good old days” is what I now do best. The Beatles were wise beyond their years, nailing it with that age-old song remembering yesterday.
All of the yesterdays that are today’s precious memories of what once was.
I’m just trying to figure it all on out. Me and possibly everyone else in the world.
I haven’t an inkling of a clue as where to start the first post of my re-vamped blog. So, puddles and all, I’m taking the plunge and jumping right into the middle of my story, as the yellow brick road is paved with not only pebbles and cobblestones, but with blockades, walls and barricades. Stepping stones. The forks in the road all lead to a jumble of incomprehensible signs, none of which I’m able to decipher. At least, not yet.
It therefore should come as no surprise that I actually have enough material for a Self-Help Journal, which would be aptly titled: “Stuck in the House with Cuckoo – Confessions & Observations from the Fly on the Wall”. A whopping 730 pages! And, that’s just from Day One. Just waiting for the publisher to return my telephone calls.
But, in the meantime, I’m trudging through all of this muck. A certain four letter word with an exclamation mark would rhyme so eloquently with stuck, but alas, not all words are appropriate for this type of blog, so I’ll leave it to your imagination as to what this word could possibly be.
Have I lost my marbles?
Whether question or statement, the answer is up for debate. And, that’s the premise of this blog.
Gotta skeddadle. The telephone’s ringing and we all know who’s on the line….
Stay tuned! Next post will be published in two/three weeks or so, all depending upon the finicky moods of Inspiration and Creativity.
In the meantime, be grateful and positive. It’s a wild ride that we’re on. These are tumultuous times and we’re all in this uncertainty together. I choose humour and storytelling to tell my tale. Connecting oceans via heaping spoonfuls of chuckles. After all, laughter is healing, as well as contagious…
Along the Chemin du Roy en route to Quebec City.
Stories Snippets Snaps 