Carnival

I seem to have lost a day somewhere… I was doing some things on the weekend that led to a minor setback with pain and exhaustion and it’s a day later than I expected.  I slept all afternoon today, and only recently woke up because I hadn’t eaten and I felt a little weak.  Somewhat frustrating, but there you are… stuff happens.  Jerry was not pleased with me, since I locked him out of the bedroom today while I slept; he is of the opinion that I can’t sleep without a small dog on my tummy or tucked under my arm or curled behind my legs.  Don was surprised that I was so wiped, but kept Jerry quiet so I could rest.    He’s planning some mischief, and I know enough to not ask too many questions!  Jerry has just stolen the blanket off Don’s lap, and is looking very proud of himself, eyeing everyone from his little heap!

It’s Carnival at home now; the first since the pandemic with no restrictions.  I’ve never been enthusiastic about the crowds and the noise, although I’ve spent time downtown walking around and enjoying the sights or at the Savannah watching the bands prepare to cross the stage.  I never joined in the bands themselves, nor have I stayed to party until Las’ Lap — I’d usually head home by about 5pm so I could rest up for Wednesday.  It was hammered into me (and I’ve tried to pass on that ethic) that you can party as hard as you’d like, but you need to meet your obligations.  So dance and drink to your heart’s content on these days, but show up to work, ready to function, at your usual time (usually 7:30/8:00am) on Wednesday.  I horrified the kids by relating that at university, we had our mid-term Chemistry labs on Ash Wednesday, starting at 8:30am where about 60% of our coursework mark was assigned.  They were all aghast at the idea of being in school and in an exam after 5 days of partying.  I’ve always been unsympathetic to the argument that they “need a day to recover” as I have this unpopular belief that personal responsibility is part of every adult’s remit.  

I admit, though, that I occasionally miss the spectacle of the bands as they cross the stage under the sun.  My family members, who play enthusiastically, begin training just after Christmas to be in prime form and  have the stamina for the 2 days on the road.  A couple of my girlfriends train year round, increasing the frequency as they approach these days.  I have fond memories of aunts who would head to the Savannah early in the day and be there until fairly late at night to watch the parade, and who would cram the grounds for Panorama (I prefer to watch from the comfort of my living room, without the crush of crowds or traffic.)  It makes me unusual, I know.  My niece is having her first year of partying this year, and started off with a “breakfast fete” which started at 3am and has plans for a beach party.  I’m vicariously enjoying her exploits, remembering my early party days, and glad that she’s able to get some of that enjoyment after the isolation of the pandemic.  

However, all those parties are now not what I can do.  I can watch the videos that are streaming, play the music (although I find that it’s all starting to sound much the same and I really can’t tell one from another) and imagine being at home in the sun and warmth.  I then avoid the 8-hour wait to get into an event (true story!!) the 6-hour traffic jams, and the flus that run rampant following Carnival.  I’m pleased that people are able to get out and enjoy themselves, while I’m equally comfortable not being in a crowd.  All hail the value of choice!

I need to attend to the dog, who will be sick if he continues doing what he’s doing, so I’ll go calm him down.  Good night.