SELF QUARANTINE DAYS 1-17
I wrote the first post on March 16, 2020 and
every day thereafter.
Day 1 of self quarantine. Coronavirus makes
us realize shockingly for the first time we’re
no longer young, we’re not even middle aged,
we’re senior citizens. I look over at Gary,
unable to suppress scary thoughts.
Oy vey. It’s going to be a long couple of weeks.
*************
Day 2, self quarantine: I realize how lucky my husband and I are. We can afford to stay home indefinitely and we have a fully stocked kitchen. But we’re also over 60. The realization that one or both of us could be really sick or worse in days is terrifying.
***************
Day 3, self quarantine: I watch the news in horror. The parking lot of Citizens Bank Park, our stadium where the Phillies would normally be playing baseball next month, has been turned into a mash unit for coronavirus testing.
My husband is cranky. I’m just scared.
************
Day 4, self quarantine
The news is bleak. The pandemic could last 18 months. Gary and I are lucky in that Gary is already retirement age and I will be there this summer. I’ve learned this week I don’t like doing my job from home. Up until now, I always thought I would work for a few more years. Now I’m not so sure. Life is short.
The news is bleak. The pandemic could last 18 months. Gary and I are lucky in that Gary is already retirement age and I will be there this summer. I’ve learned this week I don’t like doing my job from home. Up until now, I always thought I would work for a few more years. Now I’m not so sure. Life is short.
****************
Day 5, self quarantine: I’m growing a unibrow and you don’t want to know about my upper lip but the last time I tried to exfoliate myself, I ended up with half an eyebrow and little prickly bits of wax stuck to my body for days. In other news, Gary’s messy chef ways are becoming problematic. Obviously I don’t mind cleaning up after him, it’s a small price to pay for his awesome food, but he’s been cooking 24/7 out of nerves. Those who may be envious I had sweet almond biscuits didn’t have to clean up the floor and the countertops, three crusted over cookie sheets with sticky sugar icing and two huge mixing bowls etc etc. But hey, I’m not really complaining, it’s cool. We’re still healthy. For now, anyway.
*********************
Self isolation day 6: These are terrible times for a hypochondriac who reads too much. The last couple of nights before bed I swore I had a headache and sore throat but I woke up feeling fine. Unfortunately my appetite is also fine. I’m eating everything not nailed down.
Yeah, that’s a bedtime snack of pie ala mode. Don’t @ me. Be good to yourselves. ❤️
*******************
Day 8, self quarantine: Yesterday I read the below article. I almost threw up and fainted but instead I ended up having a big talk with myself and decided to reset. I’m not going to make myself any sicker with anxiety about the future. I’m so neurotic under normal conditions, you don’t even want to know. Also, I realize I am lucky to be able to work from home in my pajamas and draw a paycheck. I can do this. For now, anyway. If I do decide to retire later this year, I’ll do it with a clear head and not under duress. This isn’t to say that I’m no longer terrified and doing my usual over-thinking— of course I am— but I am trying to focus on the present moment, because really, none of us are guaranteed any more than that, anyway.
********************
Day 9, self isolation. I’m too angered by the imbecile in the White House, a/k/a Dr. Dementia (because apparently he’s a doctor now) to post rationally. Money is more important than life. His fans are calling coronavirus the “Boomer Remover” even though dear leader is 73, but these are the same people who think he’s a devout Christian. So read the below tweet and weep because it’s where we’re headed. Sadly, as more people get sick within the coming days, he’s probably going to double down. God bless America.
****************
Day 10, self quarantine: Yesterday was a test of sorts with me - I had a work project which, if I were at the office, would have taken me an hour, tops. But our remote system is wonky, I kept getting kicked off, blah blah blah and it ended up taking all day. And then, as I was insanely frustrated, ready to throw my laptop against the wall, I got a call I wasn’t expecting. Apparently our office isn’t recession proof after all, and while my job is still safe, there will be painful changes and others in our tight knit group weren’t so lucky. We’ve only been home seven days. My first reaction was shock, then anger, but I’ve had the night to sleep on it, and really, my principal focus is that my family and I stay healthy. The statistics this morning are terrifying: Rapid acceleration of #Coronavirus cases in U.S.
Jan. 21: 1
Jan. 31: 7
Feb. 10: 13
Feb. 20: 27
Feb. 29: 70
Mar. 10: 1,018
Mar. 20: 17,935
Mar. 24: 53,470 (698 deaths)
(Sources: state and local health agencies, hospitals and C.D.C., compiled by Johns Hopkins Univ.)
The unhinged idiot in the White House may think we’re having a beautiful resurrection of returning to work on Easter but looking at these figures, his easter eggs will be all over his face. Anyway, I’m back to being very scared. STAY INDOORS.
Jan. 21: 1
Jan. 31: 7
Feb. 10: 13
Feb. 20: 27
Feb. 29: 70
Mar. 10: 1,018
Mar. 20: 17,935
Mar. 24: 53,470 (698 deaths)
(Sources: state and local health agencies, hospitals and C.D.C., compiled by Johns Hopkins Univ.)
The unhinged idiot in the White House may think we’re having a beautiful resurrection of returning to work on Easter but looking at these figures, his easter eggs will be all over his face. Anyway, I’m back to being very scared. STAY INDOORS.
*******************
Day 11, self quarantine: I finally took off my pajama bottoms after over a week and put on jeans. Not because I’planned on going out, but because I don’t want to eat any more rich, gooey calorie laden snacks. As expected, my jeans were already tight but I’m not freaking out. Every day that the people I love stay healthy is a good one. Since I was dressed, I decided to get some fresh air and walk the dog with Gary. It was my first time outside in days. We walked down our street, and I was shocked to see all the cherry blossom trees blooming. Then we turned the corner and saw a rainbow. A long walk is highly recommended. Be good to yourselves.
;
Day 12, self quarantine: Does anybody know what time it is? What day? What month? Oh yeah, it’s daybreak, Friday, March 27, 2020. The Phillies should have opened their major league baseball season yesterday. Gary and I should have been having a VIP meet and greet tonight with John Mayall and Dave Mason (yeah, I sprung for the VIP package for Gary’s Christmas present) followed by front row seats for the show. Gary was so cute, he already had a question he wanted to ask Dave Mason, What was his favorite recording session? Since Dave recorded with George Harrison, Eric Clapton, Hendrix, Traffic, Delaney and Bonnie etc., I doubt it’s answerable — but really, it’s more of a tribute/acknowledgment, anyway. The email postponing the concert was totally expected and appreciated, though. And of course Eric, Natalie and Julie all had shows in Philadelphia in April and May which are postponed. I haven’t seen Julie since early January and Eric since early February and it occurs to me it could be summer until we’re together again. Arghhhhh. But Julie, Eric and Natalie have all been doing Instagram live shows which are a lot of fun so at least I get to “see” them and share in their musical lives. If you don’t follow them on Instagram, you should. In other news, work continues to stress me the hell out. Doing complex personal injury litigation from home with everything closed, including the courts, just feels silly during a pandemic but whatever. I can’t believe it was just a couple weeks ago, after six months of brutal work on back to back jury trials, I said to my boss, “Thank God things are finally back to normal. Yay for a normal work week just puttering around with all our files. I’m so happy.” I must have said that to him ten times between March 2-13. Friday the 13th would be the last day we worked. Yesterday, I asked my boss if he had any thoughts on when we might return to the office. He replied, “I’d love to be back by the end of Passover on April 20, but realistically we may not be back until early to mid May.” His reply basically left me paralyzed. This shit is getting real. Local news is scary. Philadelphia is being looked at as the next virus hotspot. In New York, less than two hours away, the morgues are overflowing and refrigeration trucks are grimly parked outside hospitals. There’s no rhyme or reason to this disease, it attacks all ages and for whatever reason, some people have mild symptoms and some people die. It’s so terrifying all we can do is stay informed but take it from me, you don’t want to read too much. Last night I went out with Gary to walk the dog again so I could take some deep breaths. Meanwhile, I don’t know if it’s because I live near the Art Museum in downtown Philadelphia and we’re kind of a hipster neighborhood but now the whole freaking area is decorated in rainbow balloons and I am so here for that. Oh well, onward! Happy Friday!
Day 13, self quarantine: So yesterday Gary and I tried watching daytime television. Welp, Gary did, not me, I attempted to prepare a New Jersey Superior Court Motion to Amend Complaint at the dining room table while a neighbor used power tools and every dog in the neighborhood barked, including mine. Anyway, now I know why housewives take drugs. And oy vey, daytime tv.
Gary wouldn’t let me put on the Food Network and I wouldn’t let him watch a football game from 1992, so he flicked the channels and all that was on were reruns of sitcoms and game shows from the 70s. Gary put on Mary Tyler Moore. I looked at the screen.
“Oh my god, everyone’s dead except Betty White and Lou Grant,” I said. “Wait, I think Murray may still be alive. Who’s the guy who played Murray? I can never remember Murray’s real name.”
Gary looked at me and sighed. “Who cares?”
Errr...right.
Gary changed the channel to the Match Game. I looked at the host and six celebrity guests and started to speak but Gary interrupted me.
“Yeah, yeah, they’re all dead, too. Well, except Betty White. I know you were going to say it, don’t even try. Are we supposed to be upset that Charles Nelson Reilly is dead, Rob?”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “No, I’m saying we’re old. Everyone we watched on tv as kids is dead.”
Gary stuck his tongue back out at me. “No kidding. I like being old. We grew up in a much better time. And we had the Beatles.”
I looked at him sadly.
“Oh Jesus, you’re going to say something about John and George being dead, aren’t you. Just stop. They’re dead, we’re not, we’re just old. Old is good, Rob. Old is good.”
Well, duh. No shit “old is good.” Why do you think I’m so freaked out by the coronavirus? I want both of us to live another 25 years! Because you know, I’m kinda curious what 60 is like 😜
In better news, I continue to enjoy my daily walks with Gary and Jake. People are pretty intelligent in my ‘hood and at least where we take Jake, everyone is social distancing and wearing masks. I’m starting to think masks are the new normal, yeah, probably, because I just bought a couple hundred dollars worth of my discontinued Lancome lipstick on eBay. Also, the rainbow thing continues here, and now it’s a lot more than balloons, every home with a child has a different colorful interpretation. Gary and I smiled, thinking of what young Julie and Eric would have done with rainbows and free rein at Casa Slick. As I write this, I’m thinking I should do it. Okay, then, I will! I’m off to make some rainbows! Be safe everyone. Happy Saturday!
Day 14, self quarantine: Happy Sunday. Wait, it’s Sunday, right?
And so begins week three of quarantine. It occurred to me that Gary and I could have been using the time indoors to do some much needed home improvements, but then I shrugged my shoulders. Everything is so fragile and scary right now. I don’t want to nag or be a taskmaster in the middle of an apocalypse. And okay, okay, we’re both klutzes. This is not a great time to visit an emergency room. Do you remember Tim the Tool Man? Gary is the liberal hippie version. He thinks he can fix anything but erm, no. Kinda the opposite, We can’t even get past step one, which is Where did he put his tools? And when we find the tools, the one he needs is always missing. You have to see us when he’s trying to fix something. He’s like the surgeon with terrible bedside manner and I’m his extremely reluctant, hapless nurse. I so don’t want to be there. And of course weed is involved. The last time I assisted was a couple weeks ago when I bought a new lamp, tried to put it together myself while he was sleeping because if I didn’t, it would have stayed in its box for five years, then of course I assembled it completely wrong and couldn’t take it apart.
“Screwdriver!”
I rustled through his toolbox, which is really an old semi- broken tackle box belonging to his late father and okay, the reason he can never find his tools is because every time I do a deep clean, I hide that skanky box and can never remember where.
“That’s not the one I want. I need the Phillips-head, you gave me the flathead. Jesus Christ.”
Oh, excuse me, I’m not telepathic, and by the way, why are there Happy Meal toys from 1989 in with your tools?
He yelled at me, I cursed back. I don’t understand why we just don’t hire contractors, he always insists on doing everything himself but he clearly hates it. He’s an artist, a chef! I’m so fine with that. If I wanted Tim the Tool Man, I would have married him.
So yeah, I’ll deal with the house later. Let’s live through this plague first.
Anyway, I’m not gonna lie, yesterday was rough. I’m doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t do - I’m reading too much. I signed out of the news, puttered around social media, and then I got an email from Bob Lefsetz.
“Are you scared yet? Tonight I am. I've been very diligent. I haven't seen a person face to face since I went to the drugstore on Monday the 16th. You see I don't want to get it, and I'm fearful if I do I'm not gonna make it through.”
In case you don’t know who Bob is: Bob Lefsetz is the author of “The Lefsetz Letter.” Famous for being beholden to no one and speaking the truth, Lefsetz addresses the issues that are at the core of the music business: downloading, copy protection, pricing and the music itself.
I said to myself DON’T READ THIS NO NO NO but I’m nothing if not a masochist hypochondriac with massive OCD so of course I read it and now I can’t stop thinking about it.
Seriously, I can’t stop re-reading it.
“That's what's happening now, reality is sinking in. You're gonna be in your house for a long time. And you might just get the coronavirus. And you, or people who are dear to you, might just die.”
Omg omg omg
Okay, Bob isn’t a doctor, he’s a bigger hypochondriac than I am, but he has leukemia and a comprised immune system so no shit he’s freaking out.
I’m getting more and more worried that Gary is still going to the store, even though he does go at dawn, during isolated seniors’ shopping. Everything I’m reading says the next two weeks are going to be awful. We have enough food and toilet paper...I need to make him understand. This is when his Rebel Without a Cause refusal to get an iPhone or watch the news makes me insane.
So my plan is to get Gary to watch a little national and maybe even international news today, just enough to get him to understand why I’m so worried. And if that doesn’t work, I’m gonna sic the kids on him. Because, you know, love ❤️
As far as rainbows, all the Christmas lights in Casa Slick are back on! And there’s going to be a pot of from scratch tomato sauce on the stove later today...the tomatoes have already been roasted and the house is still so fragrant! At least for today, life is good. Here’s to even better days tomorrow.
Day 15, self quarantine: Welcome to Monday, week three of the working from home debacle. Yesterday, I started to hyperventilate. I had like 87 emails from my boss on a Sunday and enough tasks to keep me busy through 2021. The wireless keyboard and mouse I ordered to help me work faster on my laptop did not arrive on Saturday as promised due to “high demand “ a/k/a everyone in America had the same idea...sigh...it will now be here Thursday. I knew I couldn’t blame my crappy productivity on my crappy equipment much longer so I decided to get serious and set up an actual office. Goodbye dining room table, television, Gary, and Jake, hello my new pop-up office in daughter Julie’s former bedroom. I posted some pics so you can see I’m now happily surrounded by all of Julie’s rainbows, including Christmas lights. Even though Julie moved out around 15 years ago, I always loved her room so I didn’t touch it, welp, except for adding the promotional posters from a couple novels I wrote. Also, during her 5 year nomad period and beyond, Julie still crashed here between tours. So yeah, this is a pretty cool home office. Julie even has a real desk and comfortable chair. I’m such a dope, I can’t believe I’ve been struggling at the table on a counter-stool for the last two weeks. But I liked hanging with the boys, distracting as that was. The other problem I’ve been having is, I’ve been working, Gary has not. His job has no remote capability and his office, which is attached to a warehouse, is considered life sustaining so they’re open. When I tell you it’s a petri dish for coronavirus on several levels, believe me. The kids and I put our foot down. He’s over 60 and a smoker. Right now he’s using vacation time. He’s got several weeks so we don’t have to make any decisions yet, but as far as I’m concerned, he’s now retired. I just have to convince him. Haha, something tells me that’s not gonna be a problem. So we’re blessed in that regard. As for me, yeah, I can officially retire in August though I hadn’t planned on it. But then again, none of us could possibly have planned on any of this. Cities shut down. Major league sports shuttered. Live music silenced. Social freaking distancing. It’s total science fiction.
It’s our new reality.
So wish me luck in my new office today. And hey, maybe without me to hang out with, Gary may actually start a home improvement project around here. Haha. Nah. 😎
Day 16
Day 16, self quarantine: Happy Tuesday. So at least yesterday I was pretty productive in my new home office, even if I did spend all day on one thing.
“Just keep it basic,” my boss said. I love my boss dearly, he’s beyond amazing, but I’ve been working with him for three years. Nothing is ever basic though he tricks me into believing it every damn time.
Draft one was returned with a note: “Shouldn’t “we” (quotes added) talk about the Defendants’ Motion for Summary Judgment in our Motion?”
No. No we should not. Ugh, it meant I actually had to read the thing.
Draft two returned: “We (there’s that “we” again) should probably also include a discussion about their Motion for Third Party Complaint.”
Really? For the love of God why?
Normally I’d be cool with all this but I’m using the office laptop which is a clunky Dell because for whatever reason, my fairly new MacBook Air wasn’t compatible with our remote system. It takes me forever to switch in and out of programs, and every time I tried to unbold one of my boss’ notes, I ended up deleting everything. Arghhh. I started letting out primal screams.
Gary heard me from downstairs and brought me a cup of hot coffee because my shaking, shrieking body clearly needed more caffeine but I thanked him, anyway and he looked at me like a sad little boy who had no one to play with.
I wanted to play! I’m so not having a good time. And I miss my real office and all the people — I actually like everyone there 😎
But I realize these are beyond first world problems so I’ll shut up.
For real, in between making changes in my Motion all day, every time I got frustrated I remembered people not lucky enough to be getting a paycheck, there’s people suddenly out of work, basically penniless and terrified. Especially people in service industries. I thought of my hair stylist. Okay, I have been thinking of my hair stylist every freaking day for the last three weeks every time I look in the mirror and see an inch of gray roots and realize this is gonna happen. Actually, assuming we live through this pandemic, I’m doing it, I already have the pic with the color I want. Also, my unibrow is taking over the top half of my face but I’m growing fond of it and named it Babs. Okay, okay, I’m not that fond of Babs but the eyebrow scissors I bought in a panic right before the quarantine turned out to be a nail scissors with curved blades...completely useless and tell me how you can even use it on your nails unless your nails grow on a curve? Wtf do I know, I suck at this stuff. That’s why I (used to) go to nail/wax salons.
Anyway, my hair stylist is doing fine and provided me with some much needed comic relief when he replied to my text checking in on him.
“I’m good,” he said. “I’m finally a housewife!”
😂😂😂
Who am I kidding? I’m already fantasizing about getting us both hazmat suits so he can come over and give me a touch up.
But seriously. I joke around a lot because it’s how I deal, along with writing. I’m pretty scared, for myself, my loved ones, our country...the world. Right now all I really care about is everyone staying safe and healthy. Everything else is bullshit.
And with that, I’m off to get my head together for work.😎And with that, I’m off to get my head together for work.😎
;“Just keep it basic,” my boss said. I love my boss dearly, he’s beyond amazing, but I’ve been working with him for three years. Nothing is ever basic though he tricks me into believing it every damn time.
Draft one was returned with a note: “Shouldn’t “we” (quotes added) talk about the Defendants’ Motion for Summary Judgment in our Motion?”
No. No we should not. Ugh, it meant I actually had to read the thing.
Draft two returned: “We (there’s that “we” again) should probably also include a discussion about their Motion for Third Party Complaint.”
Really? For the love of God why?
Normally I’d be cool with all this but I’m using the office laptop which is a clunky Dell because for whatever reason, my fairly new MacBook Air wasn’t compatible with our remote system. It takes me forever to switch in and out of programs, and every time I tried to unbold one of my boss’ notes, I ended up deleting everything. Arghhh. I started letting out primal screams.
Gary heard me from downstairs and brought me a cup of hot coffee because my shaking, shrieking body clearly needed more caffeine but I thanked him, anyway and he looked at me like a sad little boy who had no one to play with.
I wanted to play! I’m so not having a good time. And I miss my real office and all the people — I actually like everyone there 😎
But I realize these are beyond first world problems so I’ll shut up.
For real, in between making changes in my Motion all day, every time I got frustrated I remembered people not lucky enough to be getting a paycheck, there’s people suddenly out of work, basically penniless and terrified. Especially people in service industries. I thought of my hair stylist. Okay, I have been thinking of my hair stylist every freaking day for the last three weeks every time I look in the mirror and see an inch of gray roots and realize this is gonna happen. Actually, assuming we live through this pandemic, I’m doing it, I already have the pic with the color I want. Also, my unibrow is taking over the top half of my face but I’m growing fond of it and named it Babs. Okay, okay, I’m not that fond of Babs but the eyebrow scissors I bought in a panic right before the quarantine turned out to be a nail scissors with curved blades...completely useless and tell me how you can even use it on your nails unless your nails grow on a curve? Wtf do I know, I suck at this stuff. That’s why I (used to) go to nail/wax salons.
Anyway, my hair stylist is doing fine and provided me with some much needed comic relief when he replied to my text checking in on him.
“I’m good,” he said. “I’m finally a housewife!”
😂😂😂
Who am I kidding? I’m already fantasizing about getting us both hazmat suits so he can come over and give me a touch up.
But seriously. I joke around a lot because it’s how I deal, along with writing. I’m pretty scared, for myself, my loved ones, our country...the world. Right now all I really care about is everyone staying safe and healthy. Everything else is bullshit.
And with that, I’m off to get my head together for work.😎And with that, I’m off to get my head together for work.😎
Day 17, self quarantine: Yesterday, just as Bob Lefsetz predicted in his email, I heard names of people I knew critically ill with coronavirus. Then I read a couple of obituaries. Up until now, my quarantine thoughts have centered around work, keeping Gary the super shopper out of supermarkets, and this whole surreal social distancing experience. Of course I’ve also read horrifying first person accounts written by survivors and medical professionals. Some are so graphic and gruesome I couldn’t finish reading but yeah, what I did read stayed with me and made me queasy with fear. So I’ve tried not to think about it. Much.
Last night after dinner, I was sprawled out on the sofa, playing on my phone, when I realized something.
I didn’t feel well.
I had that weird achy feeling and I had a headache and vaguely sore throat. Terror washed over me. I looked over at Gary, who was happily watching a Simpsons’ rerun and eating grapes. I didn’t say anything because I don’t have a good reputation around here - I really can be a hypochondriac and we’ve already established I read too much. But this is not the time to be the Old Lady Who Cried Wolf. Instead I quietly googled coronavirus symptoms, even though you know damn well I’ve got them memorized, and tried not to have a full-fledged panic attack.
About panic attacks. I used to get them, I haven’t had one in years and I take zero medication, which was not always the case. Some day I will write about that, but anyway, the scariest part of my panic attacks was not being able to catch my breath.
So when I read about this disease, it’s my worst nightmare.
I was afraid to go to bed last night. I was scared I would wake up in the middle of the night, deathly ill and gasping for air. Have I mentioned I’m a hypochondriac?
I went upstairs with Gary anyway, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, I started to lose it. Why is everything so much more terrifying at night? I mumbled something about needing a glass of water and tried to slip out of the bedroom quietly. I don’t like Gary to know I’m a lunatic.
Okay, he knows but I try to at least cosplay normal 😎
“Stay here. I’ll get it for you. Are you alright? You have a goofy look on your face.”
“Yes,” I tried to keep my voice even. “Seriously, I’ll go.”
Oh my God, I needed air. And when I make myself nuts like that, please don’t fuss over me, I am a mental patient and I need to be alone.
Thank god he didn’t try and stop me. I went downstairs, opened the front door and took in big gulps of hopefully not virus infected air and tried to decide if I was sick, nuts or both. Optimistically, I went with nuts.
Back in the living room, I watched a midnight episode of Chopped. It was a show featuring fried food in every course and it was pretty appalling.
It’s my happy place.
I fell asleep sitting on the sofa and woke up with both feet asleep, just in time for Comcast to do that very fitting end of the world 4:00 a.m. emergency broadcast siren that is only a test.
There was no sense going upstairs, I was awake. I limped into the kitchen on my still asleep feet, made a pot of coffee and started writing this.
And by the way, I feel fine.
But this quarantine is clearly getting to me.
Day 16, self quarantine: Happy Tuesday. So at least yesterday I was pretty productive in my new home office, even if I did spend all day on one thing.
“Just keep it basic,” my boss said. I love my boss dearly, he’s beyond amazing, but I’ve been working with him for three years. Nothing is ever basic though he tricks me into believing it every damn time.
Draft one was returned with a note: “Shouldn’t “we” (quotes added) talk about the Defendants’ Motion for Summary Judgment in our Motion?”
No. No we should not. Ugh, it meant I actually had to read the thing.
Draft two returned: “We (there’s that “we” again) should probably also include a discussion about their Motion for Third Party Complaint.”
Really? For the love of God why?
Normally I’d be cool with all this but I’m using the office laptop which is a clunky Dell because for whatever reason, my fairly new MacBook Air wasn’t compatible with our remote system. It takes me forever to switch in and out of programs, and every time I tried to unbold one of my boss’ notes, I ended up deleting everything. Arghhh. I started letting out primal screams.
Gary heard me from downstairs and brought me a cup of hot coffee because my shaking, shrieking body clearly needed more caffeine but I thanked him, anyway and he looked at me like a sad little boy who had no one to play with.
I wanted to play! I’m so not having a good time. And I miss my real office and all the people — I actually like everyone there 😎
But I realize these are beyond first world problems so I’ll shut up.
For real, in between making changes in my Motion all day, every time I got frustrated I remembered people not lucky enough to be getting a paycheck, there’s people suddenly out of work, basically penniless and terrified. Especially people in service industries. I thought of my hair stylist. Okay, I have been thinking of my hair stylist every freaking day for the last three weeks every time I look in the mirror and see an inch of gray roots and realize this is gonna happen. Actually, assuming we live through this pandemic, I’m doing it, I already have the pic with the color I want. Also, my unibrow is taking over the top half of my face but I’m growing fond of it and named it Babs. Okay, okay, I’m not that fond of Babs but the eyebrow scissors I bought in a panic right before the quarantine turned out to be a nail scissors with curved blades...completely useless and tell me how you can even use it on your nails unless your nails grow on a curve? Wtf do I know, I suck at this stuff. That’s why I (used to) go to nail/wax salons.
Anyway, my hair stylist is doing fine and provided me with some much needed comic relief when he replied to my text checking in on him.
“I’m good,” he said. “I’m finally a housewife!”
😂😂😂
Who am I kidding? I’m already fantasizing about getting us both hazmat suits so he can come over and give me a touch up.
But seriously. I joke around a lot because it’s how I deal, along with writing. I’m pretty scared, for myself, my loved ones, our country...the world. Right now all I really care about is everyone staying safe and healthy. Everything else is bullshit.
And with that, I’m off to work.
