Day 39, self quarantine:
So yesterday was one of those rare, “Your every wish is our command, Robin” days and I was so there for it.
Literally a few hours after I posted I was staying home until at least Memorial Day no matter what, my boss texted me that the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas was closed through at least Friday, May 29, and therefore we could expect the same. In fact, his “conservative” opinion was we would return to work June 1, but it could extend beyond that.
Yesssss.
It’s not that I think the virus is going to simmer down, I think we’ll have a much better idea of just how safe it is to venture out and what additional steps, if any, we need to take.
So that was a huge psychological relief for me.
And then...and I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad or anything, I was doing my usual I hate this fucking laptop banging my head on the desk, thinking to myself, “Man, I’m hungry, what do I want to eat”...when I’m not even lying, Gary appears in the doorway of Julie’s room I mean my office and oh my god, he brought up coffee and two slices of warm Jewish apple cake.
Warm apple cake. Who does that spur of the moment? And how did he pull it off?
And then...and I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad or anything, I was doing my usual I hate this fucking laptop banging my head on the desk, thinking to myself, “Man, I’m hungry, what do I want to eat”...when I’m not even lying, Gary appears in the doorway of Julie’s room I mean my office and oh my god, he brought up coffee and two slices of warm Jewish apple cake.
Warm apple cake. Who does that spur of the moment? And how did he pull it off?
“Did you make this?” I sniffed the air suspiciously. I’m like a truffle pig. If there’s something in the oven, I’m all over it in two seconds no matter where I am.
“Nah, I bought it at Whole Foods during our weekly smash and grab.”
Wut?
“How did I not know this was in the house?” I asked, with my unibrow arched.
“I hid it from you.”
“What? You hid cake from me? What am I, ten years old?”
“Yes.”
I laughed. He’s right.
“Rob, we both know if you knew there was cake in the house, if you didn’t eat it the minute you saw it come out of the bag, you wouldn’t be able to sleep until you did.”
Truth.
I still hide chocolate. I’m hiding it from myself since it’s just the two of us and Gary rarely eats it. If I have, say, a bag of salted caramel Lindor truffles and they are sitting in front of me on the coffee table, I will eat the entire bag in one sitting. If I hide the bag in the jar on top of the bookcase (ooh now you know where I hide my stash) I would have to walk across the room in front of Gary to fetch one, after telling him I was too full to finish my salad at dinner just five minutes ago.
Even though he could care less and wouldn’t say anything.
I guess I really am ten years old.
Seriously, the reason our relationship has survived is we’re both addicts. Hey, we grew up in the sixties - we have addictions that even extend beyond drugs and alcohol. You don’t even want to know 😎
We’re both deeply flawed but we never lost our ability to laugh.
So yeah, in case anyone is wondering why else I’m not in a hurry to return to the real world, what job offers a coffee break with laughter and warm apple cake?
Hmmm. Actually, mine kinda does. The founder of our lawfirm is 80 years old and still very active. Usually on Mondays, he walks around the suite with a big box of treats, stopping by everyone’s office to chat for a second and drop off a snack. It’s really very charming, except for one thing. The first year I worked there, he’d come around with Snickers and KitKats. I don’t know what the hell happened, but he switched over to granola bars.
Feh. That’s not candy. If I want to eat styrofoam packing peanuts, I’ll save the boxes from my online purchases.
I still think it’s awesome he does this, though.
Sometimes it’s the little things, huh.
If you’re keeping track, Happy Thursday.
