Day 30, self quarantine
Yesterday was kind of cool. The sky turned black and we had a storm so fierce it sent the dog under the table, howling.
“I’ve never seen Jake like this, Gary. Do you think he’s trying to warn us to take cover?”
“From what? Aren’t we indoors?”
“We’re under a tornado watch,” I said nervously.
Gary sighed.
“C’mon,Rob. When is the last time we had a tornado in downtown Philadelphia?”
I considered that for one hot second.
“When is the last time you had to quarantine for a month while a swarm of locusts headed for Kenya?”
“Huh? What? Locusts?”
He looked at me like I was speaking another language.
What can I say? I read a lot, watch international news, and hang out on Twitter. Gary does none of the above. He doesn’t even go online.
Guess which one of us sleeps blissfully through the night and which one of us chokes down a nightly melatonin, praying for four straight hours?
Anyway, the storm was all kinds of groovy, which is easy to say when you’re wearing pajamas and drinking a steaming mug of coffee with your sweetie.
Now that Gary is working from home, too, it’s much easier. It feels like sleepover camp, not that I ever knew what that was like. My parents gave me a quarter and locked me outside until dinner in the summer, that was my camp and I fucking loved it.
What can I say? I read a lot, watch international news, and hang out on Twitter. Gary does none of the above. He doesn’t even go online.
Guess which one of us sleeps blissfully through the night and which one of us chokes down a nightly melatonin, praying for four straight hours?
Anyway, the storm was all kinds of groovy, which is easy to say when you’re wearing pajamas and drinking a steaming mug of coffee with your sweetie.
Now that Gary is working from home, too, it’s much easier. It feels like sleepover camp, not that I ever knew what that was like. My parents gave me a quarter and locked me outside until dinner in the summer, that was my camp and I fucking loved it.
In Camp Casa Slick, Gary gets up early and we sit around having coffee together, then at 8:00 a.m., I head upstairs to my home office with Jake Slick, paralegal dog. Too funny, Gary is jealous Jake goes with me, especially since Jake has always made it clear Gary is his favorite.
What Gary doesn’t know is that I have a bag of doggie treats hidden up there which I judiciously dole out every time Jake looks like he is leaving to join Gary downstairs 😜
I know how to beat all systems.
So I have a question: why is everyone really posting their high school graduation pictures? Is looking at pictures of baby boomers in their youth actually supposed to make high school seniors feel better about missing their prom and graduation because of COVID-19? Hahaha, seriously? In which world is that?
Even though we all know what a crock it is, I’m posting mine for no other reason than to tell you my mother saturated my hair with olive oil and I had to bend over her ironing board for an hour so that I could have poker straight hair for my graduation pic. I’m so old I predate blowdryers and keratin.
My mom died not too long after that picture was taken. I still miss her every single day.
Ah, memories. I have to be careful with that.
Going hand in hand with Gary’s One Day at a Time lifestyle is advice given to me years ago. If you live in the now, you will be happy. If you live in the past, you will always be depressed. There’s nothing you can do about the past, it’s over. If you live in the future, you’ll always be anxious. It’s a waste of time, no one has a fucking clue what the future holds. Be present!
Makes sense, right? But if we never visit the past, what do we do with our memories? And if we don’t allow ourselves to contemplate the future, what about our dreams?
It’s tricky, huh.
Hey, even though I’m old, I still have dreams. Like, one day I hope to have every room in this house perfect and looking like a spread in Architectural Digest.
Hahaha. Right now, after five weeks of being quarantined with Gary, my house looks like a college dorm after an unsupervised kegger.
Oh well. I’ll straighten up and hire an interior decorator once it becomes apparent I’m going to live through this thing.
Happy Tuesday!
So I have a question: why is everyone really posting their high school graduation pictures? Is looking at pictures of baby boomers in their youth actually supposed to make high school seniors feel better about missing their prom and graduation because of COVID-19? Hahaha, seriously? In which world is that?
Even though we all know what a crock it is, I’m posting mine for no other reason than to tell you my mother saturated my hair with olive oil and I had to bend over her ironing board for an hour so that I could have poker straight hair for my graduation pic. I’m so old I predate blowdryers and keratin.
My mom died not too long after that picture was taken. I still miss her every single day.
Ah, memories. I have to be careful with that.
Going hand in hand with Gary’s One Day at a Time lifestyle is advice given to me years ago. If you live in the now, you will be happy. If you live in the past, you will always be depressed. There’s nothing you can do about the past, it’s over. If you live in the future, you’ll always be anxious. It’s a waste of time, no one has a fucking clue what the future holds. Be present!
Makes sense, right? But if we never visit the past, what do we do with our memories? And if we don’t allow ourselves to contemplate the future, what about our dreams?
It’s tricky, huh.
Hey, even though I’m old, I still have dreams. Like, one day I hope to have every room in this house perfect and looking like a spread in Architectural Digest.
Hahaha. Right now, after five weeks of being quarantined with Gary, my house looks like a college dorm after an unsupervised kegger.
Oh well. I’ll straighten up and hire an interior decorator once it becomes apparent I’m going to live through this thing.
Happy Tuesday!
