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11:10 AM - Thurs 8.24.23
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One Special Tuesday

Well, here we are...

If you've been following along, you know that last time I wrote, I was feeling unwell - Started feeling particularly "drug-out" on Wednesday last week, followed by a couple days of "gastric distress", which transitioned smoothly into something cold and/or flu-like (Right now, beyond still not having complete use of both my nostrils, I feel like I'm done being sick and am back to my normal level of "tired and crappy").

For some reason, I was resistant to admitting it could be COVID, and told myself it didn't really matter if it was, since I skipped "Latin Dance" on Thursday, was on my own for the weekend, skipped "Drawing" on Monday, and wasn't going to see Josh till Tuesday morning, to picket at Disney (My understanding was the current CDC guidelines were now that, if you contacted COVID, you only needed to quarantine for five days - I just looked it up, and while that's true, you're also supposed to "mask up" in public for five days after that).

But as soon as I met up with Josh on Tuesday morning and opened my mouth, he took a step back, stricken, then looked at me and said, "Are you sick?".

Josh, weirdo that he is, very much enjoys not being sick, so he was concerned about riding in the car to Disney with me (When we've gone in the past, I've driven to his place, then he's taken us the rest of the way. And on this occasion, I especially didn't want to battle a half-dozen unions for whatever parking spaces were available - It was some special union "Solidarity" event at Disney - so we apologized at each other, and then I went home).

I had a couple COVID tests left over from the last time I worked, so I took one.

(And when I dropped the swab on the floor and worried afterward about it invalidating the test, I took the other one.)

And they were both positive.

Which I found very discouraging - For the second time, after two shots and two boosters, and less "people contact" than the average American human, I had "The Rona".

(On top of which, I felt very guilty for not having taken a test before, since I know Josh is quite fastidious regarding germs and such. What can I say? "Magical thinking" is a helluva drug...!)

So, in part because I wasn't 100% sure at the time that all my complaints were COVID - meaning I wasn't sure when I got it - and because Josh thought you had to quarantine for ten days, not five, I canceled my GenSpace classes for the rest of the week, not wanting to inadvertently kill any of my fellow old people.

So after not doing anything since the Wednesday before, it's been another week of nothing - No Josh, No GenSpace - and it's been a little bit of a bummer.

I also had a commercial audition on Tuesday, so that posed something of a dilemma in my mind - While telling myself I probably wasn't contagious at that point, I worried that, with a couple cold sores in full bloom on my upper lip, Casting might not look kindly upon me coming in while I was obviously not well (Not to mention the disadvantage of competing with all the actors who were coming in without having a full-blown Herpes outbreak marring their faces).

But after conferring with my agent, it was decided that I would go, wear a mask in the lobby, do the audition, then bolt from the place as soon as possible (And if they asked me about my health, to downplay my COVID-ity. Which, happily, they did not).

(Sadly, I don't think the audition went especially well - I don't see a callback on this one in my future.)

And if all that wasn't enough for a Tuesday...

When I got home from not-picketing with Josh, I couldn't get into my apartment (I'd noticed the doorknob was "loose" over the weekend, but thought I would just tell the apartment manager next time I had a chance - Turned out, not being able to get in my apartment on Tuesday was "my chance").

Went to the apartment manager and explained the situation - She didn't initially seem to understand that it was an "emergency" because I couldn't get into my apartment - but she called maintenance and told me it would be a half-hour to an hour.

After borrowing an empty apartment to use the bathroom - more on that later - I grabbed some beverages from the trunk of my car, preparing to wait in the hall outside my apartment.

Then I decided to just "try the door" again...and got right in.

So I called the apartment manager back to say I'd gotten inside, and she said she'd call maintenance to tell them it was no longer an emergency, but to still come before the day was over.

Happily, made it to the audition and back. But the next time I wanted to go out, I once again couldn't open the door, no matter how I huffed and puffed.

So I waited for the maintenance guy, but when it was headed toward 5:00 pm and no one had come, I called the emergency number.

He got here within an hour, and maybe 20 minutes after that, I was a free man once more (So I felt compelled then to do the laundry I'd been procrastinating on for a while).

It was interesting - I don't particularly enjoy doing laundry, and my apartment is probably my favorite place to be most times (Often, being "out in the world" makes me feel lonely and sad). But when I suddenly couldn't get out of my apartment, all I wanted to do was to get out and do my laundry.

So that was Tuesday.

For the most part, it was pretty not-good...though I guess it gave me an extra appreciation for having a space to call my own that I can both get into and get out of.

And remember the apartment I took a pee in?

It was a spacious one-bedroom on the first floor - At least it seemed "spacious", since I have a studio - with a bath that made sense for me (My bathroom takes up at least a quarter of my floor space), and a closet that would be perfect for voiceover stuff.

Afterward, I went back to the apartment manager's office, and said, "Hey, that apartment is really nice - Just out of curiosity, what's it going for?".

She told me $1900, nearly double what I'm paying for mine.

Then she told me that my own apartment, if I were just moving in, would be $1600.

As we both commiserated over the rent situation in LA, she joked to me, saying "So you can't leave...! You're a good tenant!" (Since I'm a major-league pig, she must mean that I pay my rent on time and rarely have any complaints/demands).

So I guess there's something to be said for planting yourself somewhere...

And on that note, I think I'm going to stop writing and do something else now.

Till next time...


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