life in the old lane

I was on the California Zephyr coming home from my Spring Break in Santa Barbara on March 1, 2025. Last year, Spring Break was 11 days. This year it’s only 5.

Gratitude

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Grateful that Spring Break is still in play for me.

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And now our once great country has started a war. Thank you, President Bones Spurs.

Nice day today. Almost all the snow is gone. Laundry is done. Venmo account and Virginia Digital ID set up. One bad book abandoned without guilt. That is one of the privileges of age: You don’t have to finish books that are not worth your time. You don’t have to pretend something is good when it isn’t. And you don’t have to clap.  Or eat kale.

Breakfast was also interesting. But not in a good way.

One of my friends declared hers “the worst breakfast ever.” I did not argue. She needed a steak knife to cut her waffle.

Even more grateful that I can get back up again. 

Also, Go-Back Thursday.

Made reservations to return to Charleston next week. Five nights.

First went in March 2021, when we were just being released from a year of lockdown in the Asylum. I was technically working from home, but realized something important: my actual work didn’t begin until 4 or 5 in the evening. So if I flew to Charleston, checked into a hotel, and got the Wi-Fi sorted before 4 PM, well, who would know I wasn’t still in Falls Church working from home?

Charleston and the HarbourView Inn saved what was left of my sanity five years ago.

Going back. It costs three times as much now. I had to scrabble to find a room for five nights. I leave next Friday and return on Wednesday. Flying. Used some American Airlines miles. I didn’t have many, and I rarely fly American anymore, so I consider this a bit of Death Cleaning for frequent flyer accounts.

The plan:
Sunday service at Mother Emanuel.
Bouillabaisse to die for at Magnolias.
Walk.
Sit.
Read.
Nap.

Sometimes going forward means going back.

Decided to extend my search for spring outside of The Asylum.
Not only tired of winter.
Tired of The Asylum.

But, to my knowledge, nothing broke at The Asylum today. Yet.

Nothing has changed elevator-wise.

The stairs are beginning to take a toll on my legs. But I’m still a little reluctant to trust the elevators. Not afraid of being trapped alone, I could handle that. I’m afraid of being trapped with other people. So for now, I’ll continue my Lenten stair discipline.

The elevators may be unchanged.
The infrastructure collapse, however, appears to be contagious.

An email arrived from management after breakfast:

We would like to share a few important dining service updates:

• Buffet service only on Tuesday and Wednesday due to main kitchen stove equipment failure.

• Beginning Wednesday breakfast, we will transition to disposable service while a new dish machine is installed.

• These changes will remain in place until further notice.

• Some items may not be available while the stove is out.

We appreciate your understanding and patience as we address these issues.

Elevators unreliable.
Stove broken.
Dish machine out.
Paper plates.
Plastic forks.

I suppose none of this truly matters. We are fed. We are housed. The lights still come on. 

But it does not inspire what one might call a warm, fuzzy feeling.

As for tonight’s “State of the Dis-Union”, I’ll be skipping it. It’s past my bedtime and well beyond my tolerance level.

I wandered around inside the building this morning, looking for something that wasn’t winter.

And once again, Fred’s Froggy Flower Arrangement came through.

Also, 75% of the elevators appear to be working as of 1610 hours. Rumor has it that one of the elevators trapped a person yesterday.  I am still giving up elevators for Lent.

BUT WAIT—an Elevator Update from Management just arrived.

An adjuster from Action Elevator is scheduled to be onsite tomorrow to further troubleshoot elevators #3 and #4. Elevator #1 requires additional parts, which have already been ordered. We will provide further updates as soon as more information becomes available.

We are deeply grateful for your patience and understanding during this challenging period. Please accept our sincere apologies for the significant inconvenience these elevator outages have caused. Your safety and comfort remain our top priorities, and we are working diligently with our partners to restore full service as quickly as possible.

Pray for us, Saint Quattuora.

Saint Quattuora has been busy.

About 9 PM last night, 3 of our 5 elevators were returned to service. As of this morning, they were all still operating. After breakfast, I only left the 11th Floor Walkup to go to the 10th floor to water a friend’s plants – so I haven’t a clue if the elevators are still functional.

Still don’t think that this snow event will amount to much in our area. I like big fluffy flakes. I sit in my comfy chair, drink coffee, and watch them fly around.

Update After Dinner – It was reported that one of the elevators is out of service. That means we are back to two. 

Elevator  1: Down
Elevator  2: Down
Elevator  3: Down
Elevator  4: Down
Elevator  5: Also Down

Current transportation method: Medieval.

Modern infrastructure reveals itself to be more aspirational than actual. We are told repairs are underway. Parts are coming. Residents trapped downstairs huddle in the lobby.  And, gravity remains fully functional.

Saint Quattuora has entered witness protection.

Original version of today’s post follows.

Looking for SPRING today.

Never mind that snow is on the menu for tomorrow.
My watch cheerfully informed me that 2–4 inches may fall.
That doesn’t sound too serious.

I made it a point to go outside this morning, looking for signs of life.

The elevator situation remains unchanged. I logged 42 floors on the watch yesterday. At this rate, I’ll either be in excellent cardiovascular condition or in need of replacement knees. Possibly both.

And one more thought. Great Britain arrested their bad boy. We, on the other hand, seem content to let ours continue dismantling the place.

Still one elevator today. But they did get the freight elevator working, so now we have a backup. Doesn’t matter. I’ve given up elevators for Lent.

My watch gave me credit for 23 floors yesterday. By my count, I came up three times. Eleven floors each time. That’s 30. But don’t argue with your watch. You will never win that battle.

About today’s image. I’m doing a last culling of 2025 photos and ran across this one from Wrangell last July. It looks completely fake. Like something you’d see framed on the wall at a Holiday Inn. Except it’s real. Entirely real. I took it myself with my telephone. Which is miraculous.

Protect us, Saint Quattuora.

Today we have one elevator.
The Old Bat’s Cave has become The 11th Floor Walkup.
I am giving up elevators for Lent.
Seriously, I am grateful that I can walk up to 11.

The Litany of Saint Quattuora

Patron Saint of Elevators and the Long Wait

O Saint Quattuora,
Guardian of shafts and sovereign of cables,
Keeper of flickering indicators and reluctant doors,
Look kindly upon this eleventh-floor pilgrim.

Send us a car that moves with purpose,
That does not hesitate between floors,
That opens without drama
And closes without reconsideration.

Deliver us from handwritten signs,
From blinking error codes,
And from the phrase “scheduled maintenance.”

And grant that when we press “Up,”
The machinery share our purpose.

Preserve our knees,
Strengthen our breath,
And let at least one elevator be working.

Amen.

(Feast day observed whenever more than one elevator functions simultaneously.)

And thanks to OpenAI for the artwork and poem assistance. Quattuora is a made-up Latin word. Because everything sounds more important in Latin.

Technology today: getting the new scanner working.

Download driver.
Install driver.
Download firmware update.
Install firmware update.
Download software from the App Store.
Install the app.
Download additional software from inside the app.
Install that software.
Finally — scan something.

It works.

And I can’t help but wonder: what do 80-something people do with new hardware if they aren’t old, washed-up computer hacks?

Meanwhile.

What am I going to do about the concentration camps that ICE is building?

Am I going to sit here in my cosy apartment and quietly optimize my scanner settings?

History is not vague about this. In 1930s Germany, most people did not goose-step. They stayed home. They adjusted. They told themselves there was nothing they could do. They folded laundry. They made dinner. They kept their heads down.

Is that what I am doing?

Canceling the Washington Post.
Killing Amazon Prime.
Writing virtual checks.

Is this resistance?

Had a “checkup” with my lawyer today. I called the meeting. Want to be sure everything is OK for when nothing is OK.

She asks: What was your mother’s name? What was your father’s name? Where were you born? When were you born? What was your profession?
My response: And you need this? Why?
Lawyer says: For your Death Certificate.

That cuts right to the end of life chase, doesn’t it?

That’s one more thing that I can check off my “adulting” to do list. And yesterday I checked off the dentist. Where I escaped with just a cleaning.

Great day today. Lunar New Year and Fat Tuesday. I don’t know which to celebrate. How about both?