So, I logged into Zoom on Tuesday for the weekly Sun Journal meeting. Got the camera adjusted just so. Tested my mic by blowing on it and muttering “Hello? Hello? Is this thing on?” like all the professionals do. Rubbed the cowlicks out of my hair and made sure the crack pipe was off screen. Yep. Ready for some big league, professional video conferencing. “Hello? Hello? Is anybody out there?” Nope. Nobody out there. Just me and the buzzing bits and bytes of an empty cyber conference room. Turns out the meeting had been rescheduled for a day later. Seriously, bros? I put on pants an’ everything!

I also used Zoom to tune in to a New Gloucester selectmen’s meeting. Now, most of you know that if given a choice between sitting through a town meeting and getting devoured by spider monkeys, I’d slather myself with banana juice and await the simian claws and fangs. But if you’ve got to cover such a meeting, Zoom is the way to do it. Why, it’s like hanging out in the living rooms of the town elders themselves. Love what you’ve done with the hardwood in here, Joe. Why, Linda, when did you put cork tile down in here? It looks lovely. Yo, Paul. That’s quite the baby grand you’ve got there. Do you play? The only disappointing part of the night was that there weren’t any snacks. I was led to believe there would be snacks.

In an effort to keep things light and less drinking-alone-in-the-dark gloomy around here, I like to scan the news headlines and social media pages for non-COVID-related news. If you happen to see any, let me know. So far all I’ve got is “Major Construction at Auburn-Lewiston Airport” and a photo of some guy holding a turtle. Not much I can do with that unless the airport construction accidentally unearths a toxic waste pit which transforms the turtle into a monstrous (but really slow) killing machine that goes on a rampage (albeit a slow one) of terror across the Twin Cities. If that happens, I’ll be golden.

Wait! What do turtles even eat? It would be just my luck if this one turns out to be an herbivore. I’m sorry, I just can’t work under these conditions.

You know where to find me
Despite the herbivore setback, this monster turtle story idea is coming right along. Of course, if the nuke-fed killer turtle turns out to be a real thing, I’ll be hiding out in New Gloucester. I’ve got friends there, you know. Yo, George! I’m going to need you to pull out that futon I spied in your spare room when I was over the other night. And lock that liquor cabinet all you want, friend, I know where you keep the key.