Covid Timey Wimey Troubles

    We've had a couple of strange moments, in the past week, and they all have to do with time. The first one occurred early in the week and involved our Squeezebox internet radio that we use to wake us up to OPB every morning. On this particular morning, the radio began, and I did my usual slow waking to those familiar voices. My first thought was, "Wow! I slept great!". Then ... I got up to use the bathroom and take an early morning medication. I spotted the bathroom clock. THREE AM??!! I returned to the bedroom, turned off that radio and inserted myself back between the sheets and willed myself back to sleep.

    Two nights later, I woke up (I usually wake 2-3 times during the night). On the way to the bathroom, I did my usual checking the time on the closest lit clock face. I read 5:30AM, took my meds and went back to bed. A few hours later, I woke again, peered at the same clock, which now (apparently) read 5AM. I resisted slapping myself for the earlier misreading, but wondered what the actual time was when I took my meds. 

    And finally, this past Sunday night, as N and I, finished watching the last of three different Masterpiece Theater offerings, a promo for a Monday evening program prompted us to, "tune in tonight at 8PM for the latest episode of Finding Your Roots". We turned to each other and burst into laughter. My first thought was--it's not just us! Umm, are you completely sure, K? I have some doubts.

Love, K

Get You Some ...

 

Murder Mystery (?) from Australian Outback

"Knives Outback" 

 by Mitch Moxley

A man is presumed murdered. In this town of 12, everyone is a possible suspect.

In the hours before he went missing, never to be seen again, Paddy Moriarty had beer on his mind. Each morning around 9 a.m., Paddy would hop on his red quad bike with his dog and head for the Pink Panther pub for morning chores — cleaning the toilets and showers, raking leaves. The retired 70 year old, a former ranch hand born in Ireland who sported a mustache and had a heart condition, had been paid weekly with cartons of his favorite brew. After a few hours of work, he’d settle in at the bar for his daily drinking session. Most days, he would drink eight cans of XXXX Gold, an Australian lager. Eight beers — seldom more, never less.

The path from the far end of town, where Paddy lived in a converted service station, to the door of the bar passed the homes and businesses of nearly every resident of Larrimah, a dry, dusty, and cartoonishly small hamlet in Australia’s Northern Territory, a vast swath of rugged country largely devoid of people. The Outback town was once the effective terminus of the North Australia Railway, and it thrived for a time. During World War II, the Gorrie Army Base was nearby, Australia’s largest during the war. But in 1976 the railroad shut down, and through subsequent decades, the Larrimah population dropped from 100 to 50 to 25 — finally to 13.

Read or listen to entire story here