I am distracting myself from the shit state of the world, in macro and micro, by thinking about stuff. Physical goods, of the sort of which I have accumulated too many, in the eternal quest to have Just The Right Thing – which usually results in having four or five things which are each a slightly different Eighty Percent Of The Right Thing.
Like the Yeti. These days, it’s mostly down to two: one stackable 20 oz which goes back and forth to work and one stackable 16 oz which is for home use. There are way too many more to speak of, but these are the anchors, and for good reason: the 20 is the right size for a full pint of beer, or a grande Starbucks drink in bring-your-own-cup mode, or enough ice for a can of soda or more. It’s a perfect all-purpose size. By contrast, the 16 is a little smaller – fine for filling from a can, but closer to 15 oz with the lid on which screws up other things. But if you’re refilling regularly out of a pitcher or a growler or whatever, it’s a much cozier size to have to hand. It’s the bedside cup, and the Moon Dust textured purple serves as a tactile reminder that I’m at home, not out in the world. Which is nothing to sneeze at.
It’s also finally dipped cool enough to get out the gray chore coat from American Giant which was a gift last year – it is the perfect “light layer” weight and pairs nicely with the Solovair Chelsea boots I picked up a couple of weeks ago and have mostly broken in. There is something about the jacket-and-boots combination that just feels right. I don’t know if that’s a callback to Star Wars, or to life in DC, or just the ongoing desire to spend my whole life in that four month window without daylight saving time, but at a moment when I need something to shift, being able to dress the part helps.
The wider world is bad right now. There is immense comfort in being at home in the back yard, with a nice marine layer keeping the glare off, either flipping burgers on the grill or relaxing in the Adirondack chair or (especially) reclined in the shed with the candle for aroma and the battery-powered string lights and faux-neon giving that purple glow while reading myself into another reality. Even just the feeling of walking out the front door to bring in the trash cans, or down to the school to plug in the car – there is a cozy little world here that I can almost reach out and touch, just beneath the surface of the real world, and any chance to immerse myself in it is a gift.
I guess I finally learned to live in the moment and appreciate it. If you poke your head over the parapet even a little, you realize it’s a long stretch into the darkness ahead with no telling how bad it could get or for how long. So the goal is to remain ever focused on here and now and find the joy – or at least the contentment – in whatever can be carved out of the present.
October always beings memories of 2004, or 2016 – when it felt like a bad time might be pushed back, only to fail. I suspect last year will be added to that cavalcade of misery, although it honestly didn’t feel that bad until November 1 when it couldn’t be kicked any further down the road. But October also feels like 2019, with Asheville and Ken Burns’ Country Music and the desire to stretch out and cuddle up and just watch hours and hours of informative history.
But I don’t know how long this will be enough.