Helene

This is an untitled document, and it shouldn’t be. I started writing something yesterday, and I even titled the document because the thing that I was writing about was a vague and unformed idea and I knew I’d forget about it if I didn’t write it down in some form. Today, I find that my most recent Doc is untitled, and blank - not a word. And just as I thought I would, I forgot what it was I was going to write about. 

So let’s talk about the weather, shall we? It’s been raining for five straight days here, and by the time Helene gets her fat ass out of here, we’ll likely have had ten straight rainy days. It hasn’t rained hard, really, and we’re not seeing thunder and lightning and gusts of wind, but a low-pressure system is hanging over us, and after it makes its exit this weekend, Helene’s remnants will take its place. 

Do I have any right whatsoever to complain about the weather when Florida and Georgia and the Carolinas are taking a hard beating today? No I do not. Will I complain? Yes I will. It’s too much rain. It’s too much gloom. Everything looks dingy and blah. The whole world feels damp. Moss is going to start growing on my furniture any day now. The deer and the squirrels keep looking at me as though waiting for an invitation inside. It’s a mess. 

*****

It's the next day now, Saturday September 28. It rained hard overnight and was still raining at 7 this morning when I woke up. Now it's just overcast and foggy and warm and densely humid. I can't tell where the sun is because it's shrouded in layers of clouds on top of mist on top of fog. 

I'm in the back seat of my car, on Maryland 200 heading toward I-95 North. We're driving my mom to the Maryland House to meet my brother, who will drive her the rest of the way home. If criminal gangs are out here trafficking cantankerous old ladies, then the FBI definitely has its eyes on us because we do this every six weeks or so. Maybe we should vary our routine a little bit. Maybe we should make my mom wear a disguise. 

*****

It's been quite a week. My mom is kind of falling apart, and it's hard to see. It's hard watching your parents fall into decline, even if they weren't the greatest parents. And it's hard to be an almost old person watching a truly old person and dreading your own eventual decline. That's why I walk and swim and climb stairs and lift weights and do stretching and strengthening exercises every day. I'm in training for old age. 

*****

My mom likes to watch old movies and TV shows, especially British comedies. We let her commandeer the TV when she's here so I don't see much news, which is probably best considering that there were three men executed, two of whom were very likely innocent of the crimes for which they were condemned; combined with catastrophic Old Testament weather combined with an election that’s close even though one of the two candidates is a criminal, an unrepentant liar, a creepy misogynist and sexual predator, and a stone-cold racist who is also clearly out of his ever-loving mind. How is it close? How? 

And that’s just this week, and just his country. Compared to world events, my mom is the picture of health. Compared to world events, my mom is in great shape.  

*****

It’s Sunday now, and we’re going to a little afternoon football watch party. I don’t care about football at all, but a party might be just the thing. I know everyone who will be there, and it will be nice to eat snacks and drink wine and talk to my friends. Maybe I’ll even watch a little bit of the game here and there. It’s raining again, so we’ll be inside.