Fresh Hell

To quote Dorothy Parker, “What fresh hell is this?” On a political front, like picking at a scab before it is ready to fall off, each morning I can’t help myself, but I read the papers and see what damage our dear leader has now inflicted on us and the world. Two weeks in office, he has signed orders to get rid of any Diversity, Equality, and Inclusion anywhere (since incompetent white men are rightly fearful for their jobs), closed the USAID office, and set (and of course backed down) tariffs with our (now former?) friends, Canada and Mexico. He has unleashed the dogs of DoGE, laughingly the Department of Government Efficiency, whose real goal, now met, was to get their grubby paws on the Treasury Department’s computers and all the information therein. Republicans fall into line, Democrats flutter their hands in anguish. Eventually he will break enough to either collapse the country or cause riots in the streets. Mess with Social Security and Medicare, I dare you.

On the home front, I have finally seen what Grant has been claiming: he is forgetting things. In my usual optimism, I’d brushed him off. You’re not forgetting, you just don’t pay attention, I’d say to him. Last night, having leftovers for dinner after a big meal at what was formerly called Elder Luncheon, now the Social Luncheon 60+, because, God forbid, we should admit we are old, he couldn’t remember what fruit was in the quinoa salad he’d made. Peaches? No, the canned mangos you bought. I’m scared. I bet he is too.

Lastly, and most importantly, poor Teddy is sick with RSV, respiratory syncytial virus. Last week, he had tubes put in his ears to mitigate ear infections. Now he is on antibiotics and symptom relief. 

My only positive thought this morning is thank goodness our family has the collective resources to weather the storms that come.