I Am Not a Squirrel

Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.

Where we are: We’re still in Reykjavik, but I (finally!) have an ankle update: the general consensus seems to be that it might require surgery at some future date, but only if it’s causing me pain. For now, I’m tapering out of the boot, and trying to figure out how to get some physical therapy. What am I going to do with my newfound freedom? Go grocery shopping, of course.

I am not a squirrel

On the plane, on our way to Iceland, Lee accused me of being a squirrel, trying to hoard food in my cheeks.

He seems to think it is unnecessary to scavenge half eaten jars of jam on the plane, or tiny squares of Swiss chocolate (for the record, I disagree).

Yes, we’re going into quarantine when (if?) we get to Iceland, but it’s not as if one is not fed, at least in the quarantines we’ve experienced. (Perhaps that’s because I was in charge of choosing our last quarantine hotel?)

In Iceland, our quarantine is in a Hilton. Meals are not included—we basically had to book a normal room, and promise not to leave—but there’s room service. And food delivery. No one has ever starved to death in a Hilton.

So why did I struggle to relinquish my half-eaten cherry jam on our flight? It was SwissAir, so of course, my second cup of tea was accompanied by a square of amazing chocolate. Like, so good, I had to take a picture of the empty wrapper to send to a friend. Initially, I wasn’t going to eat it. I was just going to slip it into my purse, because who knows? We might have a chocolate emergency in quarantine. Lee said, very lovingly of course, “Just eat it right now.”

Sadly, the third cup of tea did not come with chocolate, because I definitely would’ve saved that one. I mean, who needs three pieces of chocolate at breakfast? *innocent whistle*

[The chocolate situation? Not going to be a problem. I sent Lee into a duty-free to buy a couple of bars. Just in case, of course. Then later, a very nice survey woman asked him some questions about airport signage, and gave him a full-sized bar, as a thank you. The real score, though, was a cup full of Easter eggs, followed by two over-sized bars—a ‘we’re so sorry you were inconvenienced’ gift from SwissAir. They’re definitely my new favorites. As a matter of fact, in future, I will always vote for a layover in Switzerland.]

My backpack is full of Thai snacks. The wonderful gentleman who pushed my wheelchair through Suvarnabhumi Airport was trying to help me get my iPad out, for security, & little jars and tubs of tom-yum flavored cashews and krong krang tumbled out everywhere.

Maybe Lee’s right—I might be flirting with some kind of borderline hoarding behavior.

I think it’s an emotional response to being, basically, a turtle: instead of carrying my home on my back, I carry it in my suitcase. I can no longer collect shoes, or kitchen appliances, or cycling gear. Instead, I feed my shopping habit with consumables—things I know I’ll use up. The problem is that nowadays, with the constant threat of quarantine/isolation hanging over us, as soon as I finish something, I feel compelled to replace it. 

I packed light for this quarantine; aside from the Thai snacks, I only have one box of PG Tips, one box of Splenda packets, and half a dozen of the little packs of powdered coffee creamer. Just in case. Because, as we all know, if there’s not enough tea in my morning, everything goes sideways.

Besides, it’s only a one-week quarantine.

Addendum: And now, we are in quarantine. From my breakfast tray this morning, I saved the yogurt, the cheese, the butter, the jam, three teabags, a tiny pot of milk, a teaspoon, and a glass of tomato juice. I hate tomato juice, but I really want the big glass it came in.

Squirrel has begun hoarding.

From my writer’s notebook:

Late last year, a French man with a metal detector was found to have amassed a collection of more than 27,000 artifacts.  It is illegal to use a metal detector in France for anything other than scientific research. Apparently this man was searching in France, then taking his haul to a farm he owns in Belgium, where it’s legal to use a metal detector just for fun. Archaeologists who were brought in to assess the piles of stuff concluded that there was no way all 27,000 items were found in the man’s apple orchard, as he claimed, and had to have been dug up from multiple locations on both sides of the border.

It’s believed to be one of the largest illegal antiquities hauls in history, including coins and jewelry from the Bronze Age, the Romans,  all the way through the Middle Ages, to the Renaissance. Now that’s a hoarding problem.

Take care,

Lisa

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