cooler by the lake

Cooler by the lake, I remember hearing that all the time.  Right as the weatherman was wrapping up his prognostication he would add, like an unnecessary afterthought, cooler by the lake.  Didn't mean much to me growing up seven miles west of the lake, and actually sounded like kind of a benefit when I moved into my tower with the splendid lake view.  I love air conditioning when like on a sweaty day I burst into the Walgreens and it is like diving into an arctic pool, but I don't like it at home because then I have to shut my door and I can no longer feel the breezes wafting in my front room and out my bedroom.  So it was nice living by the lake where it is cooler in the summer and sometimes I go the whole year without having to turn the air conditioning on.

But while it's not so hot, in a good way, in the summer; it is also not so hot in a bad way come spring when prevailing weather patterns bring the winds from the north and the northeast, from the lake, that long finger of winter, slow to warm, as is the way with water, and the already cool winds that caress Canada get cooler as they travel three hundred miles over cold, cold water, and spring, that fair, slim maiden in the green gold gown is held hostage by that troll Old Man Winter, as he slowly, ever so slowly retreats to the north.

So for about a month when further inland daffodils are tossing their tow-headed heads in balmy breezes and the air rings with the laughter of little kids at play, the lakeside days are cold, windy, wet, raw.  We are still allowed, as long as we don't go near any park, and do not travel in packs, to walk the streets of the city.  I was looking forward to this at least, when the weather warmed just to walk downtown, admire the architecture, feel the fresh breeze on my face, get out of the fucking house Man.  If it was merely cold I could weather it, but the rain, the wind, I just can't hit my stride with that.

And it's strange out there.  Though not as many as before, there are still cars, and busses, so many busses, those big flex busses that go on and on, and nobody is in them.  I should get on one, just to ride and look out the window.  I should just pick one at random, not even look at that little sign above the driver's window just to see where it takes me,  At the end of the line I could just get on one coming back.  Plenty of time to kill, kind of an adventure, any kind of adventure is welcome in my housebound existence, but I am strangely afraid, just because nobody else is getting on them.


Not that much warmer today.  But the sun was out a little bit and that makes a big difference.  I went out for provisions.  I didn't carry my tote bag, because I read in the paper that the stores don't want to handle them.  I'm not sure if it's a law, but I want to be a good citizen.  Eight tall green Goose Island IPAs at that Wa;greens that had the stacks of toilet paper a couple weeks ago.  Blue tape marking off the path to the cash registers in six foot increments.  Took that home and washed my hands.

Then I had to see to the needs of my roommates.  The Jewel is closer than the Whole Foods, but the Jewel no longer carries Brown Cow yogurt which Buddy gets a little taste of from the foil wrapper every morning. and if it is any other brand, well he doesn't say anything, but the look on his face is heartbreaking.  Eighteen little cartons of that.

I'm well enough stocked that I don't worry about toilet paper, but last time I was at the Jewel they were out of kitty litter.  Not Buddy and Sweetie's favorite brand, but we all have to make sacrifices.  Before the corona the political correct thing was not to use those check-yourself-out machines so as to save a clerk a job, but now you are endangering the clerk, but still aren't they grateful to have a job?  I endangered the clerk,

Home again home again.  Two weeks ago today all the stores and bars were ordered closed.  Well that's two weeks down.