A friend and constant reader recently remarked that I seemed to be "stressed," given the tenor of the posts I have been publishing over the past month or so. Well, to be completely transparent, I have been stressed. There has been a lot of stuff that I have felt worth complaining about and this is the place I feel most comfortable doing just that.
But not today. Last week saw the Oakland Athletics come back to win their Wildcard series against the Chicago White Sox, and the Denver Broncos finally won a football game. These were the kind of vicarious thrills that had recently been absent from my life. It gave a little pep to my step and sent me on a path toward the sun, though it is still obscured by smoke.
Also, last Tuesday, my wife discovered what she thought was our son's wallet hanging off the back of the chair in our office. Our son asked whose wallet that was, since his was in his pocket where it tends to rest. A quick look inside let us know that this was the wallet that I had just given up hope of finding. The one with the mild treasure trove of photos and ephemera, including the receipt for my wife. The relief of not having to replace more credit cards or drivers license but being relieved of the eternal question, "What happened to my wallet?" It was wedged in the chair behind me each day as I sat there writing that blog about how I lost my wallet.
And then there was the milestone of dropping under two hundred pounds for the first time in more than a decade. Intermittent fasting, giving up peanut M&Ms, and a conscientious and dedicated exercise regimen made it possible for me to lose more than thirty pounds. The spectator sports and the wallet were happy coincidences, but the benefits of losing weight were something that I earned. The joy I felt when I stepped on to that scale was palpable.
Though it didn't exactly prepare me for the news that came down late Thursday night about the "president" and his COVID-19 test: positive. I understand my gleeful reaction makes me less of a person than Joe Biden, who sent best wishes to his opponent and hoped that he would be well again soon. I understand that my reaction is centered entirely on my own twisted belief in karma. It was the final brick in the comedy pyramid that began with all of the Trump supporters and anti-mask ninnies who have followed their leader's example into the emergency room. This was the guy who, just a few nights before, had ridiculed Joe Biden from across the stage about the "big mask" the former vice president wears. It was only a few hours after he had gone to yet another rally with those same supporters not wearing a mask and shaking hands. Joe Biden tested negative for the virus. The "president" tested positive. This would be the moment in which science seems to have given us clear proof that masks make a difference. Big masks. Lots of them. All the time. And all that injecting bleach and taking hydroxychloroquine did not save him from getting the virus.
And this caused me to do the happy dance. Does this make me a bad person? Hard to say. But it does make me a happy person. One month until the election.