Backman Overdrive

Do I wish I was a prepper, now that store shelves are depleted? Yes, a little, but I still contend that I don’t have storage for superfluous food.
Ask me in a week, when the chocolate donut gems are a memory and Bubs is seeking yet another bag of baked Lays potato chips.
THEN I’ll fervently wish I was more of a prepper, and ALSO that I had more pantries.
But for NOW, while Social Distancing, in a county newly besieged by a lone despicable case of COVID-19, I CLEAN.
And I don’t just spot-clean like I’ve done all my life, nope, not today.
Today, I BACKMAN clean.
My favorite author wrote somewhere that he cleans a bathroom like a rabid tornado — not just a REGULAR tornado, a RABID one — and though I may have altered things a bit, in my head I see a gloved, snarling, middle-aged, blondish man armed with Lysol-equivalent spray bottles, wringing a soapy sponge, gutturally snorting and diving into the bowels of the most disgusting room in any home.
I channeled the vision and did the same. I CLEANED, people, I ATTACKED, with a fervor never seen in my fifty years. The tub GLOWS, the toilet GLEAMS, the floors are unwrapped from their coating of don’t-ask-just-remove accumulated over these many moons.
I cleaned so hard that the walls look MORE beige, THAT’S how vicious I was with the scrubbing brush, the anti-septic wipes, the numerous sponges that now reside in the big blue trash can outside.
I went all BACKMAN on it, then I did it AGAIN…because there are two bathrooms…and now I’m frenzied, hopped up on fumes and redolent sounds of blaring heavy metal reverberating around one-chick army of clean.
I’m slightly deafened…perhaps the sound could have been lower.
I’m exhausted…attacking filth is hard work.
My dermis is alligator-like, dry, hardened, moisture-depleted from so very many chemicals.
And I’m discouraged…because Bubs has finally risen, disappeared into the belly of the spotless restroom, and I’m going in there….never. It’s officially dead space to me.
So THAT’S good news. No more cleaning THAT area of the house.
But the I caught a glimpse of the feet of the stove. Have you ever seen the feet of YOUR stove? I’m going to need a nap before Going Backman on THAT.

The Southern Writer Challenge

I set myself up to read 18 books from Southern US writers this year. That’s 18 titles on top of the other 60 or so that I usually read because, hey, I want to be the librarian “in the know,” because I’m a geek and just that competitive and hate to be out of “the know.”
Plus, reading helps with my Compulsive Procrastination Disorder.
Need to clean? Oh, but there’s this book…
Need to work on my own “novel”? Oh, but the best research is reading other writers!
I can do put-stuff-off all day. And I do.

And today, at this moment, here and now, I was going to tell you about the first book I read from my self-imposed list, but here’s the deal…
In my internet meanderings — as part of my job, of course — I discovered there’s a new Backman book called “Bear Town” or “Beartown” — I can’t discern correctly if the title is one word or two, as though that matters, but it does because of course I want to get everything just right when it comes to a Backman book — coming in April! The 25th, to be exact, and the publishers better not let me down because doggone it, I’ve spread the word to 800 people that this book will be in stores on that date and there’s going to be a line at book sellers everywhere and holy crow the disappointment river will run deep if it doesn’t happen.
And I will be the one crying the river.
Since my favoritest author ever, ever, ever, Mr. Pat Conroy, passed away, I have put my displaced adoration for brilliant writing onto Mr. Fredrik Backman, who is Swedish. He’s lucky in that regard, because stalking in English is my only capability. I cannot speak Swedish and I’m too afraid of what Google Translate would do to my well-meaning words of exaltation for his characters and story lines.
So to update my Southern reading challenge: I’m on the third book of my list.
Maybe Backman is from Southern Sweden?

Until the 25th of two-and-a-half months from now, I’m begging for advanced reading copies from every source I can find.