I had no interest in viewing last Monday’s solar eclipse. I’ve already seen a number of eclipses, both full and partial, and they all look the same in the dark. I was, however, VERY interested in how people would react while watching the moon blot out the sun.
At first I thought I’d attend an eclipse party (there seemed to be a lot of them listed on Facebook), but shortly before the eclipse was scheduled to begin, I found myself in the middle of doing laundry. It’s not the first time my cosmic plans have gone awry in favor of personal hygiene.
As I pulled shut my studio curtains, to avoid accidentally viewing the sun during the ocularly-hazardous event, I noticed a crowd of people standing in front of the building across the street, eyes raised heavenward and protective glasses in place. Although they were silent, I figured all hell would break loose at 1:06 p.m., the moment the maximum phase of the eclipse was due in Minnesota.
At 12:32 p.m., I made a quick visit to the laundry room down the hall, where I loaded a basket of clothes into the washer. Scooting back to my loft, I set my egg timer for 30 minutes, sat at my worktable, and wrote in my journal while I waited.
At 1:06 p.m., I listened for cheers and shouting from the crowd.
All I heard was my egg timer going off.
After two more minutes of silence, I headed out the door and down the hallway.
My laundry was done.