As of this week, it’s been a year since the world collectively lost its shit and proceeded to panic mightily. A year ago I was recovering from a colonoscopy and thinking I’d be working from home for a couple of weeks, a month at most.
We all know where that went.
If there’s one thing the last 12 months has taught me, it’s that it’s impossible to overestimate the power of stupidity. I don’t know why it is, but throw a more or less intelligent person a collection of scare headlines and enough media slavering, and the ability to think for oneself takes a nosedive.
It’s enough to make you wonder if you actually do need tin foil hats to watch TV safely. Because TV is the single most moronic form of media. The TV channels are to intelligent discourse what Famine’s restaurant chain in Good Omens was to food – nicely packaged, designed to be appealing, and completely devoid of any form of nourishment (intellectual or otherwise).
On the flip side, The Husband is down to a few days left before he ceases to be employed. This means he’s applying and interviewing – while he’s got a good severance package, with the rest of the year at full pay with health coverage, we’d still prefer to be able to save the money. Besides, I give it a week before he’s stir crazy.
Of course, the need to avoid extraneous noise while doing phone interviews has caused a bit of an issue. The cats do not appreciate being removed from the room so the interview will not be disturbed by feline keyboarding, or said felines displaying their rear ends to the webcam.
The featured image is the result – Buttercup and Midnight doing the “But… Daddy! You’re not supposed to shut us out!” sorrowful looks (Westley was trying to sleep on my work keyboard at the time – every human must always be supervised by at least one cat).