I know I’m overly critical of, well…everything. I’ve tried, really, I have: meditation, non-bendy yoga, fluffy pets and a variety of trendy and not-so methods, both pharmaceutical and otherwise. I’m sure I’ve relaxed once or twice in the past and I’ve been urged by others to try to channel that Zen, but it’s so hard to chill and focus when I, like all of you, am perpetually slogging through unending torrents of crap. My present slog is through the New York State version of scheduling a COVID-19 vaccination appointment. This is where my critics might chime in with the not-life-or-death admonition of my angst but…duh. It would be disingenuous of me to not point out that, at this writing, I have secured an appointment after hours, (really, I lost track of how many), of clicking and clacking on the InterWeb. That appointment is for more than a month from now. I could have reduced the wait time to two or three weeks had I been willing to make a four hundred mile round trip, (150 miles beyond the range of my new EV)…twice. The process was and is crap. There are state guidelines as to who is and isn’t eligible. Not surprisingly, most of those in the first-tier group are seniors who have neither the skill set nor patience to persevere the convoluted process. The people I know who are having the most success are savvy, younger surfers who have found obscure doses outside of the official NYS Dept. of Health website. We have been living la vida COVID for more than a year now. Our many-layered government, you know, the thing to which we pay our taxes to handle stuff like pandemics and potholes, has been focused on the advent of vaccines for most of that time and no one, not one worthless fucking official thought to prepare for an organized, efficient distribution plan. Not one! Crap!!!
This is where I would normally continue listing all of the other crap that is our politics and religion and economy and education, food, fashion and fairness, but today, or during some magical confluence between today and tomorrow, I’ll be celebrating my leap-year Mom’s 101st birthday, and I’m hearing her voice in my head asking, “Why are you making yourself so meshuga?” I should probably listen to her and get a puppy, but due to COVID, you can’t find one…CRAP!