Saturday, September 19th, 2020

I only get around to watching Rosh Hashanah services at about 3 PM. Before that, I watch and read tributes to RBG. I follow links to the services and flip listlessly among those that I find online. Some are dull and droning. Some are too jokey. Some are directed at people who know little about the holidays. Some are stealth recruitment efforts from yarmulke-clad preachers who pretend, for the moment, to be Jewish. One pair of livestreams kicks in at 5 PM, my time. I watch one for a while. It seems to consist of vaguely-related musical performances and stories. I flip to the other, which follows the form, at least, of the liturgy. After the first hour, my attention wavers. I keep the audio playing but look at other things online. Most of those, too, are about RBG. I stumble across information on how to get local shows on my TV. I set it up. When the service is done, I heat up pretty much the same dinner that I had last night: roast chicken, frozen brussells sprouts, and a sweet potato. My favorite of the neighborhood cats sits outside my window and meows as I eat. Maybe she wants some of the chicken. I don’t open the door for her. I don’t know if it’s good for the feral cats to come indoors, and I’m not allowed pets. I don’t go outside at all. With the holiday and the lockdown, there’s nowhere to go. I don’t see anyone all day, though I hear my landlord and landlady walking around upstairs. I sit back down at my TV after I eat. Maybe there will be something fun to watch.