Day 17,981 of Quarantine.

All of us here at the Smomestead are still doing well as far as our physical health, although my mental health is definitely taking some hits. I had a legit panic attack the other day, but I had it as an author, which is probably not as serious as it might otherwise have been, because I recognized immediately what it was and instead of living in THAT moment, I took some mental notes so that, in the future, should I write a scene where my character has a panic attack, I can do it realistically. I did the same thing in the time leading up to each of my surgeries. I’m not sure if it’s a healthy coping mechanism or not, but it’s super-effective, and probably healthier than my main coping mechanism, which is to bake metric fucktons of cookies, cupcakes and pies. #QuarantineFifteen is real, yo.

The weather around here is doing its usual springtime bipolar thing, bouncing back and forth between hot and muggy, and cold and windy, with buffers of thunderstorms and tornado warnings inbetwixt. This has not helped my anxiety. We actually lost power for a bit this morning due to some storm that blew through out of nowhere. If you’ve every wondered how self-isolating during Quarantine could be even worse, try doing it without power. I only had to deal with that for an hour and it nearly ended me. It wasn’t the lack of internet that did the damage, either. Hell, I’ve been an old fogey in a young fogey’s body practically since birth. Can’t watch TV? No problem, I’ll read a book. Only between the storm and this house’s near-total lack of window, it was too dark to read. We found some candles, but the flickering light, tiny typeset and my old-fogey eyes combined to make reading, if not impossible, at least not pleasant. Ditto painting. Turns out light is a pretty vital element of painting. So I figured I’d make breakfast, only, ya know, no power so no toaster, microwave or stove. Or coffeepot. Nothing to do really, except sit in the dark and wait for the power to come back on. But that’s okay, right? It’s good to have a little quiet-time, just sit and be alone with your thoughts….thoughts like, ‘Is this really just a bad storm or is a tornado out to rip off the roof and smear me from here to Oz?’….thoughts like, ‘I bet the sump-pump needs electricity too, so if it keeps raining like this, the basement’s going to flood again.’…thoughts like, ‘Why does my dog keep crawling into my lap and shivering? They say animals can sense things like tornados. Is she sensing one? Or does she just hate the noise and she thinks I can make it stop? Dumb dog, I can’t fix this. I can’t make it okay. I’m not even okay, how do you expect me to help you? Wait, now she’s leaving. Why is she leaving? Does THAT mean she senses the tornado? No, she’s just getting her frog plushie. There’s probably no tornado. I wish I had a frog plushie that could fix this. Oh, she’s bringing it to me. She thinks I need it more than she does. That’s cute, but also, is that the tornado?’

Obviously, I survived and even more surprisingly, so did everyone else trapped in the house with me, but it really makes you appreciate how our forefathers and foremothers had to go through their various times of hardship in the age before Netflix and coffeemakers. They had dogs, though. Which is probably how they did it.

We don’t deserve them.

And as I sit here writing this, I can hear thunder. The storms are coming back. Serious storms? Who knows. And yes, before you ask, I do have a weather-app, but the last time we had an actual tornado warning, one so close that I literally, no joke, stood out on my front porch and WATCHED the funnel form DIRECTLY across the street, I checked that stupid app and it told me the temperature and said there was a 15% chance of rain that evening, so yeah. My faith in apps was somewhat shaken. Better finish this up, pack some snacks and head down to the basement, just in case. And if you, like me, are going to be huddled in the corner of your storm shelter tonight with a candle and your dog and your dog’s plushie frog toy, best download some reading material now, before the power goes out and you lose your wifi. Might I suggest the latest chapter of my Five Nights at Freddy’s fanfiction, Everything Is All Right, Part IV: New Faces, Old Bones! You can find it at archiveofourown.org and fanfiction.net, whichever platform you prefer. It’s a biggun, too. I probably should have split it down, but that seemed like a lot of work and I was having trouble focusing today for weather-related reasons.

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To be fair, nothing about Fred Faust’s animatronics was simple, but these were the least complicated parts and he could barely cope with them. When it came to things like the cooling system, the facial rig, and of course, the ways and means of making the animatronic walk on its own, Yoshi freely admitted he was in way over his head. That wouldn’t be so bad except that he had an irritating habit of insisting she was in over her head, too. When she suggested modifications to improve maneuverability and balance, he flatly told her it wouldn’t work. Even after she took the keyboard away from him and proved it could be done—as far as a schematic could prove anything before simulations had been run—he just sat there, shaking his head.

At least until his phone buzzed at him.

“Sorry,” he said, like he always said when his phone went off, but just like he always did, sorry or not, he took it out and thumbed at it. “This will just take a second and then we’ll get right back at it.”

“Right,” muttered Ana, rubbing at her throbbing head.

“Or are you hungry?” Yoshi asked, texting madly. “Maybe we should grab some lunch or something. It seems like a good stopping place.”

A good stopping place. Ana glanced at the door closing off the shop, where Freddy lay in pieces and the other three stood untouched. Yesterday, they had managed to analyze, scan and upload two animatronic legs. Today was half gone and they hadn’t even finished scanning one arm.

Fuck this.

“Sounds good,” Ana said and pulled out her own phone. “You mind if I make a quick call first?”

“No, go ahead,” said Yoshi with flustered relief. “I’ll just…um…yeah.”

Ana tapped open her contacts and selected the one at the top of her fairly short list. She turned a polite angle away from Yoshi while it rang through, symbolically separating herself from his personal space while making sure he could hear every word she was about to say.

The other end picked up.

Ana said, “Hey Rider.”