I overslept this morning. That never happens.
Okay, I did stay up to watch Brad Pitt advise us not to drink disinfectant on Saturday Night Live. Maybe that’s why.
Or maybe I just wanted to stay in bed with the covers over my head and not come out again until this is over.
Gary and I are fine but I’m an over thinker and he just got furloughed. The thought occurred to me that if Gary could get laid off with a virtually recession proof job after twenty five years, then no one’s job is safe, not even mine. And while money isn’t an issue and I’m mulling retirement, anyway, every time I pictured myself getting the same phone call Gary got, my stomach sank and I felt really queasy.
What, you didn’t think a drama queen like me would do something insane like that? Ha ha, then you don’t know me at all. I wrote an entire one act play yesterday.
Anyway, by doing that little exercise in masochism, I knew that despite his carefree attitude and denials, Gary wasn’t just shrugging it off, either.
You always want to leave on your own terms. Not just in
terms of your job. I’m pretty sure that’s a rule for all of life, too.
Wow. Another lesson learned while confined. Give it up for quarantine!
Yesterday, I read over this journal and had yet another epiphany, one I’ve unfortunately had before and must have forgotten. Most of the time, my writing voice was lighthearted. Coronavirus isolation was like summer camp. I cracked jokes and talked a lot about food. I took everything seriously but tried to make this experience enjoyable.
On Friday, I woke up happy with my only concern being should Gary make pizza or should we order one. And with one email and one phone call, everything changed.
Death and change are inevitable. There’s no escaping either - your life can be totally turned upside down in seconds. You can only control how you react.
And that is why we must live in the moment and appreciate everything we have because everything is so god damn temporary and fleeting. As a neurotic mess, it’s so much easier for me to always look at the glass half empty.
It’s not.
I’m gonna work on that.
We ended up ordering pizza from a place in the neighborhood we last tried a few years ago. We only remembered not hating it. I dunno, maybe our higher power was listening, our no contact, curbside delivery arrived within twenty minutes, steaming hot.
It was glorious.
I took a pic - look at it! One bite and it was like strolling on the boardwalk.
I don’t know what today holds but I do know we have leftovers. Few foods make me as happy as reheated boardwalk style pizza.
Happy Sunday.
