Day 241

 

Day 241, self quarantine:

Tuesday, November 10, 2020

You know, there’s a lot I could say this morning about outrageous, criminal behavior but I’m not gonna do it.

Joe Biden is president-elect.

Deal with it, Donald.

I’m moving on.

So we did not return Santa Gary yesterday because I was really busy work-wise til late and Gary was in the mood for roasted vegetable fried rice, which is pretty labor intensive, so we’re gonna do it tomorrow.

No clue why we’re not doing it today but my significant other asked, “Can’t we do it Wednesday?”

Oh.  Maybe he thought yesterday was Tuesday.  What does retired man know about work weekdays?

I haven’t told Gary we’re getting an artificial Christmas tree yet, he was cranky at one point because neither one of us could figure out how to work something electronic in the house.

That’s another hard part of being old with your kids living in far away states - you lose your tech help. 😬

Gary and I are so funny, speaking of being left to our own devices, we’ve both been keeping a running list of everything the two of us have pulled off recently all by ourselves at our age, and we feel the need to rehash it daily.

“Remember the time the two of us lugged a ten ton wall air conditioner up three steps, through the house, and somehow lifted it above our heads to install it?” I reminded Gary, as if he’d ever forget.

(That was also the time we thought our air conditioner played music.  Indie music. Don’t even ask.)

“Wait, that was nothing!  How about when we rented a U-Haul last summer and brought home a new refrigerator!” Gary said.

I don’t think I wrote about that here.  Too fucking mortifying.  I felt like Granny Clampett in that truck and I still don’t fucking believe I lifted a refrigerator.

Also, Gary cut himself on something used to ship the refrigerator, there was blood everywhere, we both had blood all over us and we both almost fainted. 

It was like 100 degrees that day.

I worried for a week U-Haul was going to see blood and send the police to our house on a missing person search.

Ah, the adventures of Robin and Gary.

But I digress.

Back to our list of old people unlikely accomplishments.

“Just lugging all those records off the shelves last week and putting them back was pretty intense,” Gary said.

Tell me about it.  

(But they sure look good and what a thrill to be able to easily find every record.)

“No, the best was the rug last month,” I said, remembering the two of us lifting heavy furniture and trying to hoist a 9x12 rug by ourselves and me landing flat on my back, thinking I died.

“The rug!  What about the backyard?” Gary said indignantly.

He’s right.  Who could ever forget hours and hours of digging and the forty 20 gallon bags-of-trash nights.

But hey hey, we did it, just the two of us decrepit lonely codgers. 😎

Anyway, onward.  

The kitchen is next.

Then we’re gonna really go nuts and paint the house.

Also by ourselves.

Yay.

I guess I should be grateful we can still do stuff like this, huh.

We are.

And we laugh like hell and manage to have fun regardless.

I guess it could be worse.

Hey, it could always be worse, right?

Right.

I mean, the psycho in the yak wig could have been re-elected.

Like he’s currently fantasizing.

Oy.

Someone should tell him, huh.

Okay.

Don’t mind if I do.

YOU LOST, DONALD.

GO DIRECTLY TO JAIL, DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT $200.

Ahhhh.  I feel better now.

Don’t you?

Happy Tuesday.