After packing all those items, really "clearing the decks", I cooked up a big bowl of miso soup with mackerel for dinner. After that, I needed to get a load of laundry done so I did that, and by that time it was about 11 so I decided to call it quits for the day. I was actually hanging my laundry up at midnight so it was a late night without intending to be.
Then it was time to drink sake and watch YouTube and get ready for bed. I used the toilet and it was clogged! Fortunately my toilet-fu is as on-point as you'd that of a young-end boomer to be, and I quickly shut off the valve and grabbed the plunger I keep ready to go, and had it unclogged in no time. I hope a sock didn't go down there when I was doing laundry! "It's 2AM and here I am, Mr. Fixit" I thought, so that's about how late I got to bed.
I woke up at 8 or so and could have done my desired 9AM launch to deliver packages, but I did not. I wanted to stay in bed SO bad, and I sort of drifted into a weird dream. Part of that dream was my being outdoors somewhere, and there was Ken. He'd buzzed his hair and beard very short so he looked different. Aside from small talk I asked him why he was up and out this early (it was maybe 9 or 10AM in this scene) and he said, "Biden". So I could see this election was as stressful for him as it's been for me.
Ken being a quintessential suburbanite who lives from paycheck to paycheck on close to $200k a year, he has probably been even more worried. He listens to a steady diet of right-wing AM radio weirdos, so he probably thinks the Bolsheviks won even though the Dems are right of center.
Myself, I was worried enough because here we are, a nation of over 300 million, depending on one of the stupidest US states to determine whether stay merely right-of-center or go full Fascist. This is why voting matters. Huge differences are coming down to a few hundred votes. This is why I'll never miss an election from here on out. I don't care if it's for librarian, dog-catcher, and Supervisor Of Trash Collection or something, I'm taking the day off and voting.
But even so incredibly stupid a state as Georgia, famed for the Klan, inbreeding, and types right out of www.reddit.com/r/beholdthemasterrace is apparently sick of the 'Rump's shit, plus blacks, knowing they're facing an existential threat, got out there and voted. It seems to be working. I woke up again at 11. It was strangely quiet around the complex here, and I thought, Has fighting started? Better turn on the radio. It seems we're taking a step back from the edge, for now. Today's counterparts of Himmler and Goering and Speer are conceding. They can wait another 4 years...
I left here at a quarter after noon, and first went to one of the lunch trucks I owe a dollar to, gave them the dollar, then picked out some chicken wings and a little taco and that was $4. I put those in the bike bag and took off. It looked like rain off in the distance and as I rode, I decided to drop off the packages first before eating.
That all went smoothly, and FedEx is great these days because there's always someone right at the doorway and I don't need to go in at all. I ate my chicken wings and taco at the "egg shaped robot place" and at first was nervous seeing all these people walking around, but then noticed it was all Asians and Indians and they were apparently taking some exercise. Some companies have programs that encourage good health.
On the way back I was checking for packing materials at the electrical supply and I felt a drop - a large one. By the time I was over checking for stuff at Sanmina it was truly raining. I pulled some packing stuff and a huge STANLEY STEEMER banner from behind Stanley Steemer, and headed right back here along Rogers Avenue as it's the most direct way.
There was the lunch truck out front of here so I got some little fried won ton things with a vegetable mix inside for $2 and got in here and ate those with a shoyu/mustard mix. Pretty good!
When I got back here I heard - and as usual good old NPR had the best coverage of any medium - that a bunch of fascists had invaded the White House or part of it anyway. One fascist was shot - nothing of value lost there as she had been climbing in through a window over broken glass zombie-style and was wearing a Trump flag like a cape. 1 shot 1 down, probably by one of the Secret Service. And I thank them for their service. But order prevailed, as they imposed a curfew, called in the national guard, etc.
After futzing around online for too long, I headed out again at 5:30. It was dark, of course. I thought, If I'm going out when it's dark I should bring a weapon so I brought my little billy club thing. Sure enough, as I rode to the front of the place, there was a bum digging through one of the dumpsters by the salt place. No biggie, except I think it's the guy who poured piss in through the mail slot here and as I passed he jumped on his bike maybe to follow me I was not sure. So I pulled into a lit area and was prepared for a fight but he zoomed past and went north on Rogers Avenue. I rapped my stick on my handlebars a quick few times kind of to say, "Anytime, buddy". He actually seems to be pretty cowardly and I'm done with calling the cops on him; I'll handle the problem myself.
I rode up to H Mart with only a few zombies/bums/scumsuckers spotted, and locked up the bike. It seems they've got something like 3-4 security guards there now, all armed, where before it was 1-2. I got a pack of butane cans for my stove because I'd just gotten some and it turned out they were all dented in a way that, to me, looked like they might not be safe. I didn't want to give them to Ken because if they're not safe for me they're not safe for his daughter to use camping. So on my first trip I'd left them by the Coyote Creek bridge. Let the bums use them and if they blow up, Oh well!
I also got sake of course, some garlic, and interestingly, some fresh wakame seaweed which should be good in miso soup.
Outside I heard a bluesy guitar so once I had everything stowed away in the bike bags I went over to the bench where it was a guy playing an honest-to-goodness "Dreadnought" guitar and we talked for a bit. I told him every bit I knew about good busking places including that he ought to play by Whole Foods because I was really making money there until everything shut down. We talked about all kinds of things and it was kind of nice, even if it was about the unsophisticated life of busking, how to deal with people who get pissed you don't have a light, what are good instruments to play, and so on. It was good old time and I gave him $5 because "Hell I've got a place to go home to, you're out here" and after a while his ride pulled up so maybe he'd called an Uber or something.
Now, an average person might be resentful that he'd called an Uber or something (it was a nice car) "Wow, I can't afford Ubers and I gave him 5 bucks!" but my thinking is, if he's able to hire Ubers and come to think of it, he didn't have things with him; not a backpack or anything besides his guitar and a gig bag, so he's got somewhere he's staying. That's great to hear because while he's bluesy, he ain't no B. B. King and yet he's apparently doing pretty well. Yet another example of how in busking the bar is pretty low because most of success is having the guts to go out there.
I should mention completely randomly that a few days ago I heard the Good Trumpet Player, who I've heard in one of the condos near Japantown. He was doing his high riffs. It was impressive, but it seemed attainable. With practice, that most potent thing, regular practice. Needless to say he merely had more practice in than me.
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