Dearest diary, I once again write huddled under covers, on the edge of frozen delirium, this time appropriately seasoned, so at least there’s that. I’m popping an Airborne chew at every throat tickle and feverishly hoping 2022 doesn’t find me. . .

I mean, enough already with this new year.

Bag Lady can think of no better reason for the next 90 fleeting, sparkling seconds or so to put aside omicron, surges, quarantines, global and domestic tensions, fires, floods and inflation in favor of purposefully, laser-focusedly taking a moment to squeeze in some joy.

The awful will still be waiting. For right now, let’s relax, breathe in, breathe out.

LET’S TALK BUTTERED CATS

If you have yet to read about the saga of Jorts the cat, then please let Bag Lady catch you up.

The CliffsNotes version: Jorts is an office cat, in some unknown office. He’s orange, sweet and clumsy as they come. Someone in said office, hoping to encourage Jorts to step up his tongue bath game, began buttering him on the sly and *shocker* it did not work and probably made his cat pal, Jean, sick. When Jorts’ in-office human minder shared all of this online in December, a Twitter account with 116,000 followers was born.

Jorts now dispenses wit, wisdom and gentle encouragement in addition to boosting other accounts with official Jorts merch — that “merch” being shelter cats up for adoption. It’s all very awww.

Jean, his cat friend, is fiercely pro-union and you can tell she’s not as enamored with the internet fame.

It’s very you-just-made-this-up but, I promise, it would never occur to Bag Lady to butter a cat.

*FLASHBACK*

I CliffsNotes’d it once in my academic career and remember being so racked with guilt. I mean, not as guilty as “Pam” probably felt being internet outed for dairying an office pet, but maybe close. (Jorts’ human minder gave his co-worker the pseudonym “Pam” in the saga’s original posts. Pam was additionally trying to teach Jorts to open doors, like smartypants Jean, to no avail. You know that Pam’s right now telling friends and family, no, no, that wasn’t me, even though they’re like, yeah, she would totally try to teach a cat a lesson.)

SPEAKING OF JOY

Things that do go great with a little Land O’Lakes: Belgium waffles. Baked potatoes. Lobster.

And if you’re looking to recreate the movie viewing experience at home, the Country Kitchen Bakery Outlet on Locust Street in Lewiston sells giant theater-esque bags of buttered popcorn for $5.99. It’s very yellow, so you know it’s good.

WHILE WE’RE SETTLING IN AND AVOIDING THE DUMPSTER FIRE

I’m rewatching the second season of Apple TV’s “Ted Lasso” to ignite joy and also can’t recommend Hulu’s “Only Murders in the Building” enough. Have a “Survivor” itch between new seasons? Paramount+ has three seasons of “Australian Survivor” streaming now that’s more intense than the American version, in a good way. Crikey.

The last time Bag Lady wrote about freezing was in the dead of summer, as Mr. Bag Lady jacked up the air conditioning. At the time, we were on Season 1 of the UK’s “Love Island.”

Well, six months later and … we currently have a handful of Season 7 left.

Romance, bawdy innuendo, intrigue — it’s exactly as cheese ball as you suspect it would be, but in these times, it’s practically a public service when it comes to a nightly distraction.

MEANWHILE . . .

Dearest diary, please let the next 11 months buck every hellfire forecast and be instead filled with promise, hope and less wincing. In other news, Bag Cat had her annual checkup and, to no one’s surprise, was informed she has to lose some weight.

I’m already reaching for the butter.

xoxo

Bag Lady’s true identity is protected by a pair of stylish, sweater-wearing Doberman pinschers (who would eat anything dropped on the floor, butter included) and the customer service counter at the Sun Journal. You can reach her at baglady@sunjournal.com.

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