Good and bad things

Another blessing for the quarantined:

“90 Classic Looney Tunes Cartoons You Can Watch Right Now.”

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Alas, the economy is wrecked. Tuition-dependent higher education is wrecked, or will be. Job prospects in my field are wrecked.

I’m sad that, on Monday, Karin will return to her job. It’s been wonderful to have her at home. But I’m grateful that she’s employed for the foreseeable future.

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I’m glad I didn’t land any of those nine-month “visiting instructor” jobs I applied for last year. Not only would I’ve had to endure a disruptive spring term, but Karin and Samuel and I would’ve been forced to self-quarantine in a strange college town, in some dinky, overpriced apartment. I’m glad we live rent-free in an unmortgaged house owned by my parents. We pay property taxes and utility costs, but they’re quite bearable.

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We do have some onerous maintenance to do (in addition to what was predictable). Our front yard seems to be at the end of a wind tunnel. It captures a lot of trash, which we spent much of this warm day picking up.

We left Samuel bundled up on the porch so he could watch us. The wind still got to him, though, and he was displeased.

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On Thursday, I enjoyed a video conference with Josh, a dear school friend with whom I hadn’t talked in many years.

Last night, Martin’s parents contributed some home-cooked meals.

Today, our friend Sarah stopped by to give us some children’s books, as well as protective masks that her husband, Brandon, had bought for us at the Farmer’s Market.

Dreams

Happy Easter. At church-time I was in the nursery, distributing off-brand Rice Chex to the toddlers. I kept on yawning: “I’m tired.” They were skeptical. “Really,” I insisted, “I want to sleep.”

My night had not been restful. But I’d awakened after a nice dream: I was in Ecuador with my friends Brandon & Sarah; first I showed them my old dorm, and then the dorm changed into the soccer stadium. (In my dreams, I’m always returning to the soccer stadium.)

I also dreamed of Downton Abbey. Lady Edith had (clandestinely) been learning to smoke a pipe. She’d been practicing tricks, i.e. blowing smoke-rings. A visitor had discovered her doing this. “I daresay,” said the visitor, “you smoke better than I do.” Lady Edith batted her lashes at him and blew a smoke-ring. Of course the visitor was middle-aged, and of course he and Lady Edith began an affair.

I know, I know, people always think their own dreams are interesting when really they’re dull as dirt. Still, I’m rather proud of my Downton Abbey dream.

“The Semplica-Girl Diaries” is based upon a dream of George Saunders’s. It took him 12 years and 60 pages to build a story around that very simple dream. I didn’t like the story, but you can judge it for yourselves. At the mall’s Barnes & Noble with Stephen and Mary & Martin, I used up much willpower refraining from buying Saunders’s first story collection, CivilWarLand in Bad Decline. It’s typeset in Cochin, which is pleasurable to me (though I prefer URW Cochin because the italicized, lower-case s isn’t in cursive). We also ate in the food court and looked at forlorn, expensive pets.