Distractions

I am mostly not thinking about it. 

I keep bumping into it inside my brain and then skittering away, like a startled bunny who has accidentally lolloped past a rabid zombie werewolf plotting to maul the whole world with its Savage Fangs of Malice. I'm not going to give the rabid zombie werewolves much space in my brain right now, no thank you. Joe Biden is still the leader of the free world; there's no point borrowing trouble when I'm terrible at predicting Trump-related outcomes.

So: distractions.

A couple of weeks ago Joe sent the family group chat a link to the OneUp Puzzle, but I didn't try it until Pete encouraged me to give it a whirl on Sunday. I find it very satisfying -- so satisfying that I will sometimes sit at my computer at 5:40 or so and pine for the next puzzle to be available. (They drop at 6pm each day.)

Last week I said to myself, "You know, self, it might be a good idea to send Future Jamie a little post-election package." Good call, Past Jamie; the Simply Gilded box with pretty washi tape and related goodies was just the thing. There could be a "fiddling while Rome burns" vibe to this strategy of decorating my planner even as a confabulating felon prepares for his return to a position he never should have held in the first place, but hey. When it's time to add the apocalypse to my planner (by which I mean January 20, you understand), at least it will look festive.

I am resolutely not distracting myself with Facebook or Twitter. I am not reading very much of the news; I am not reading any opinion writing. Trollope is my guy right now, because a fictional slow-motion catastrophe from the 1860s is much more palatable than a real-world here-and-now slow-motion catastrophe.