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.

Day 240

 

Day 240, self quarantine:

Monday, November 9, 2020

Oh man, doesn’t life feel glorious this morning?

My whole weekend was amazing.

Yesterday we went for a drive to get bagels and it was a peak autumn day in Philadelphia.  The skies were sunny and the trees a changing, fiery thing of beauty.

We opened up the screen door and watched the birds all afternoon.

The autumn air was amazing.  Our own yard was lit, our apple tree shades of honey and crimson as well.

Speaking of trees...

I have to break the news to Gary today we’re getting an artificial Christmas tree this year.

We’ve never had one, Gary hates them.  I am not a fan, either, I love a fresh cut tree.

I have a good reason for wanting an artificial one, though. Trees are a lot of work.  I have no one to help me decorate and let’s get real, there’s a pretty good chance Gary and I are spending Christmas alone this year.

So if I’m going to go to all this trouble, I want to put it up now.  And I would kind of like to leave it up until the kids can actually come for a visit.

So, an artificial tree.

Psychologically, having a tree up now will be wonderful.

Not putting one up at all this year isn’t an option though I admit that recently, in one of my darker moods, I considered it.

And I think environmentally, it’s probably better not to have a cut live tree anymore.

It will be nice to not be cleaning up needles months later, too.

Anyway, Gary is going to hate my plan and will say no at first, but I will win this one.

First world problems, I know.

The reason I say today is because after work, we have to go to the garden center and return the six foot dancing Santa I bought that looks like Gary so we may as well exchange it for a tree.

Oh my God, the Gary Santa is so creepy.

It actually looks like Gary if Gary died and I sent him to a taxidermist.

Gary took him out of the box Saturday and stood him up in the corner and Jake took one look at it, barked, ran away and hid under the table.

I hated it as soon as I saw it and I was even happily buzzed and drinking celebratory wine!

“Oh my God, Gary!”

“What?”

“Santa Gary is creeping me out!  Does he have an Alexa in him? It’s like he’s thinking terrible things about me. Look at his expression!”

“What?  You’re nuts,”Gary laughed.

Hell if I was.  Santa Gary was scary as fuck.

“Ew, he looks like he wants to murder me. His eyes are dead, they’re not twinkling Gary eyes.”

“His eyes are dead? It’s a toy, Rob.”

I looked at it warily.

“I don’t like the way it’s staring at me,” I said again, shivering. I grabbed the blanket I kept folded at the end of the sofa and wrapped it around myself.

“You just said it has dead eyes!” But I saw Gary recoil after looking at it, too.

“Omg, it’s moving!” I screamed!

“What?!” Gary jumped up, startled.

“I think it’s alive and coming toward me!” I shrieked in horror.

“It dances,” Gary gasped.  “You know that!”  He thought the whole thing was hilarious and collapsed on the sofa laughing.

“Omg, Gary please, where’s the box, we have to put him in it, omg omg omg I want to return him, he can’t stay here!”

Gary laughed so hard he doubled over.  I threw my blanket over Santa Gary’s head so I wouldn’t have to look at it.

So yeah, Santa Gary is getting returned today.

And an artificial tree will be purchased and decorated.

I’m stoked.

Ahhh, it’s so nice to be lighthearted and talk about this today instead of the election.

Or work.  I have more discovery this week but I’ve already determined that can be done by worker monkeys so I’m cool.

Ah work, ah Mondays.

Now I just gotta figure out an official retirement date 😎

Ain’t life grand.

Happy Monday indeed.

Day 239

 

Day 239, self quarantine:

Sunday, November 8, 2020

Hallelujah.  It’s over.

Where can I get white pantsuit pajamas?

What a week.

Friday night I fell asleep sitting on the sofa again.

I woke up early Saturday, unable to move my neck.  With great pain and hope, I put on MSNBC and could not believe my eyes that Joe was still stuck at 253.

Gary came down at 9:00 a.m.  We made a fresh pot of coffee and took our respective spots in front of the television.

“Philadelphia hasn’t reported for a while,” I told Gary.

“Nevada won’t get him there,” Gary said.

“Yes, I know.  Morning Joe has told us 87 times already but we knew that.”

“If I have to hear a definition of provisional ballots one more fucking time...” Gary sneered.

It felt like we were watching paint dry.

And then, shortly after 11:00 a.m., MSNBC announced Philadelphia added votes.

“Omg, Gary, he’s winning by 40,000 votes in PA now!  They have to call it!”

No sooner did those words leave my lips than the BREAKING NEWS chyron appeared across the tv screen.

I grabbed Gary’s arm.

“We have an announcement to make,” said Morning Joe.  “Joe Biden is the president elect of the United States!”

Gary and I broke out into tears.

I knew I would be emotional but this was really something.

As soon as I composed myself, I sent out three texts, one to Eric, one to Julie, and one to my friend and coworker, Angelica, who has talked me off the ledge this entire election. 

“JOE HAS BEEN DECLARED PRESIDENT ELECT!”

And then naturally I posted it on Facebook.

I still can’t believe that it was my city, Philadelphia, for the win.

Gary and I heard a roar outside... the celebration poured out into the street and in streets all over the world.

It was like the way I read parades described following the end of World War II.

“I knew we’d be happy but I didn’t realize we’d be spontaneous dance parties in the street happy. What a moment!” Sarah Cooper

“I live near Washington Square in New York. Crowd noise has not stopped since 11:45

or so this morning. It's not organized. There's no podium, no "event." Just people being themselves in public. Celebrating, yes, but also experiencing — by means of reversal — everything they lost.”

Fox News reporter in DC: "Not a lot of violence or any kind of real commotion here, primarily, perhaps, because of just how much marijuana is being smoked. The smell of that is quite pungent in the air right now."

And while all of this peace love and understanding was happening internationally yesterday, over at the Temple of Doom:

“President Trump’s advisers said he refused to acknowledge yet that the race was over, and aides said he had no plans to deliver the kind of concession speech that has become traditional. His campaign also vowed to continue waging its legal battles.“

The funniest story of the day, though, was Rudy’s press conference at the Four Seasons.  

Not the hotel, Four Seasons Landscaping, which is nestled between a porn shop and a crematorium. 

Omg, if you didn’t hear about this:

https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2020/11/four-seasons-total-landscaping-trump-team-news-conference.html

Anyway, back to yesterday.

So Gary and I watched MSNBC for the rest of the day with the sound off and blasted music and partied all day.

We were sad we couldn’t join any celebrations in the street, but, you know, coronavirus.

Anyway, I scrolled Twitter throughout the afternoon, sharing in celebrations all over the world, when I came upon this tweet.

“You don’t have to RT him, reply to him, argue with him, or point out the lies and errors. He is irrelevant. The work to unite and move forward continues and that doesn’t include him.” Chasten Buttigieg.

I actually sat back, took a deep breath, and read it a few times.

And I felt like a giant weight was lifted off me.

So I cut and pasted his tweet and emailed it to myself.

And now I’m posting it here.

Donald is irrelevant.

Let’s unite and move forward.

Happy Sunday!

Day 238

 
Day 238, self quarantine:

Saturday, November 7, 2020

Omg am I ever sleeping again?

I know why it’s taking so long.  They are counting every vote so Donald can’t cry “fraud.”

But while we wait, we have new problems.

“The Trump administration in the past 2 days has abruptly dumped the leaders of 3 agencies that oversee the nuclear weapons stockpile, electricity and natural gas regulation, and overseas aid.”

That cannot be good.

Remember, Donald needs money.

Also, the virus is raging out of control, and Trump’s chief of staff, Mark Meadows, has it.

Good times, people.

But one cool thing. Rupert Murdoch has turned on Donald.  Fox News and the New York Post are no longer his friends.

“Mr. Trump’s legacy will be diminished greatly if his final act is a bitter refusal to accept a legitimate defeat.”

That’s Rupert in an editorial for the post.

So while I wait for Joe to hit 270 votes, I am glued to the television and alternating between stuffing my face and not being able to eat at all.

Right now I’m hungry.

I’m gonna go have some cookies.

Happy Saturday.

Day 237

Day 237, self quarantine:

Friday, November 6, 2020

And so we wait.

And I have learned that I can not only exist on six hours sleep total this entire week, I can bang out discovery requests while in a coma.

I’m not even joking a little bit.

I don’t know if this means I am a genius or that discovery can be done by worker monkeys.

Whatever.

After basically telling me to take it easy this week because he knows I’m freaking out, my boss is kind of amused that I’ve banged out work all week like a crazy woman.

I even made discovery deadline charts for all of our cases.

We have deadline charts, but I decided to go all Martha Stewart.

Omg, I am so tired.

I stayed up the entire night because I was positive Philadelphia was going to give Biden the numbers to take PA and be President.

I mean, come on, do you think that would mean something to me?

HELL YES.

Welp, hopefully Biden hits the magic number shortly.  We don’t need the lunatic in the White House inciting any more violence.

Trust me, he’s planning on it and the more time he sits and stews unrestrained, the more dangerous he’s going to get.

We had an “incident” here last night, around a mile from my house:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/philadelphia-threat-two-men-arrested-outside-convention-center-vote-counting/

And on that cheery note, I am off to glue myself back to MSNBC and Twitter.

Happy Friday. 

 

Day 236

 

Day 236, self quarantine:

Thursday, November 5, 2020

I’m so sorry, but I am still taking a journal sabbatical because you know I stayed up all night waiting for results.

Once Arizona was back on the table, I started freaking out.

I know, I know, it’s still looking very good for President Joe.

I’m nauseously optimistic.

Happy Thursday.

Day 235

Day 235, self quarantine:

Wednesday, November 4, 2020

There’s no post today.

No matter how this pans out, I’m devastated.  

How is this happening?

 

Day 234

 

Day 234, self quarantine:

Tuesday, November 3, 2020

This is it.

Day 234.  

I like it.

So yes, as you might expect, I’m a complete mess this morning.

I would love to be able to tell you positive, happy peppy Robin woke up today and shouted, “Woo hoo, it’s Christmas Eve! I’m getting a pony!”

Okay, I’ll stop.

We all know there is no such thing as positive, happy, peppy Robin.

The real Robin woke up today wishing she had whiskey in the house so she could have a shot at 5:00 a.m.

Among other things.

Listen, I’ve been an unwilling actor/hostage in Donald’s cheesy reality show for almost four years.

We’re finally at the cliffhanger finale.

I’m a whole new level of terrified.

Up until today, the scariest day in my life was September 11, when I picked my kids up at school and we ran all the way home, thinking it was World War III.

Before that, it was when I was still a young girl and the doctor came out of surgery to tell me my mother had a malignant, inoperable brain tumor.

So yes, I care about my country and yes, I’m scared and I’m crying already this morning.

In other news, my boss is so cool.

Yesterday he called me and said, “I totally understand if you can’t focus and want to put off anything until Wednesday.”

Whew.

Though I think I’m actually better off upstairs in my office and concentrating on work.

We’ll see.

I don’t know what’s going to happen.

One minute at a time.

So do any of you have anything nice planned for yourself later tonight or tomorrow?  

I’ve had my eye on something.  I told myself I am going to gift myself with it if Joe wins.

Conversely, if Donald wins I am going to do something horrible.

Oh, no I’m not, I’m just kidding. But if god forbid he wins, I’m certainly going to be putting my phone down for a few days while I try and figure out our next step and researching what other countries will still have us.

I saw a few memes here yesterday, telling people no matter who wins, they’re still going to wake up happy, go to work, and love everyone.

There’s only one problem with those cheery, little memes.

Thanks to Donald, millions of Americans are out of work, and have no work to go to tomorrow.

Thanks to Donald, 233,000 Americans are dead.  Our friends and family members.

Thanks to Donald, millions of Americans have been quarantined since March and haven’t been able to see or hug the people they love.

So yeah, nice gesture, nice sentiment, those memes, but...

NO.

IT FUCKING MATTERS WHO IS ELECTED PRESIDENT.  LIVES ARE IN THE BALANCE.

Oh my God, how do people not realize this?

I am panic attacking again.

Okay, I need to put my phone down now and watch the Holiday Baking Championship to get out of this head. It’s a two hour show, I taped it last night.

Until we meet again...

Happy Tuesday.

Day 233

Day 233, self quarantine:

Monday, November 2, 2020. 

I’m so scared I’m sick.

I just want to throw up. I can’t even handle a cup of coffee.

My boss wants to go over the case list this morning.  That’s how we plot out what we’re focusing on in November.

I don’t know if that’s good or bad.  Either I’m going to be grateful to lose myself in work or I am not going to be able to process or remember anything he tells me.

I don’t even know if I’m going to be capable of working again.

I can’t breathe.

I don’t know how anyone in this country can be oblivious to what’s on the line.

But as Gary and I remarked a few weeks ago when watching a Dick Cavett show from 1970 with Salvador Dali, Satchel Paige, and Lillian Gish, “Oh my God, listening to this, it’s shocking how much America has devolved in fifty years! Can you imagine this show on in 2020?”

And then a few nights later, we watched another 1969 Cavett show where Garson Kanin was a guest. Kanin was a brilliant writer, married to the actress, Ruth Gordon.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Garson_Kanin

Kanin discussed a book of short stories he had just written, and how after it was published, he went to a party in Hollywood and everyone there had read it and rushed over to ask if one of the characters was based on them.

Did you read what I just wrote?

People at a party, in Hollywood, were discussing a book of short stories by a great American writer.

Everyone there had read it.

A. book. of. short. stories.

My writer pals reading this know exactly what I’m saying.

Omg, how much we’ve devolved isn’t even a little bit funny.

We’re scarily stupid.

So I have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, other than unless it’s a resounding defeat, he’s going to fight it.

I don’t want to think about it.

I really don’t feel well.

I’m scared.

Happy Monday.

 

Day 232

 

Day 232, self quarantine:

Sunday, November 1, 2020

We’re now in month eight of quarantine.

The human garbage in the White House did four Nazi rallies in Pennsylvania yesterday.

I can’t even.

And then, when he heard about a convoy of his hideous supporters trying to run the Biden campaign bus off the road in Texas, he tweeted, “I LOVE TEXAS!”

Two more days.

I wish I felt more confident.

I’m fucking terrified.

I’ve learned how stupid and ugly the people in this country are and I know I shouldn’t be shocked but I still am.

How was he not arrested holding four Nazi rallies in PA when we’ve been told stay inside and my kids have been prevented from making music all fucking year?

When we’re being told it’s too dangerous to have Thanksgiving dinner with our families?

When he and his administration have totally abandoned millions of Americans out of work and hungry, and literally thousands of businesses tottering on bankruptcy thanks to zero policy on the pandemic?

And now the rift with Dr. Fauci has blown wide open, as Donald has ditched him and the entire coronavirus task force in favor of Dr. Scott Atlas, a fucking radiologist who appeared on Fox News and caught Donald’s eye.

He believes in sacrificing millions of Americans for herd immunity.

Herd immunity doesn’t work.

Donald is an accomplice to murder.

So that’s it, I can’t do or say anymore but of course I will probably think of something choice between now and Tuesday.

Yesterday was actually a pretty good day.  I had zero candy, and we took a drive, played outdoors with Jake, and finally began a project we’ve been talking about since we finished the backyard - we reorganized all of our vinyl.  

You might think that’s easy but we’ve been collecting for over fifty years.

There’s bins filled with vinyl in every room of this house.

We laughed back in the late eighties when everyone switched to CDs overnight and we happily accepted our friends’ donations when they gleefully purged their own vinyl collections.

It wasn’t until we turned off the news and started playing music 24/7 and I posted the pic of our house the other night that I realized what an unorganized disaster our vinyl had become. 

In fact, I’ve  been tripping over a box of records in Julie’s room since quarantine.

So we’re almost finished, I alphabetized and categorized all day, Gary redid the actual shelves to make sure they could hold the weight of thousands of records, and at midnight last night we were still putting them back.

We’re up to the letter “D.”

If you would see my living room right now you would wonder how I’m sitting here so zen. There’s records everywhere.  

But it’s going to be awesome when it’s done!

Omg, to actually have any record I want to hear easy to find and at my fingertips!

Haha, I know we are not normal and I am way happy about that.

We pretty much decided we’re done with television.

There’s no sports until next year, except for football, and for the first time since we’re together, Gary has completely lost interest.

I was the one who told him the Eagles are playing Dallas tonight.

His response was, “Oh, yeah?”

This time last year we would have planned our weekend around that game.

Crazy, huh.

So Gary is all excited he’s getting an extra hour sleep today and he’s going out for bagels early and then we’re going to finish this project and move on to the next one.

The kitchen.

Oy, I am pretty scared about that one, but Gary has actually gotten a lot better about spending money.

I think he finally realizes what’s the point.

Life is short and we may be stuck indoors for another year.

When we stay busy and it looks nice in here, for just a little while, we can pretend we’re A-okay and everything is fine.

I’m actually thinking of asking for ceramic tile for Christmas, what I want for the backsplash in our kitchen will make Gary have a seizure but this house is tiny.  A tile might cost $30 a square foot but I doubt I have more than ten square feet to cover.

Anyway, I am jumping ahead.  First I have to get him to part with stuff in our overflowing cabinets, like the avocado green and turquoise plastic salad bowl set someone gave us in the early eighties when we owned a boat.

Sigh...our poor kids when we die.

So that’s it for today, I am going to make a fresh pot of coffee and wake Gary for bagels.

Hey, he got an extra hour sleep!

Happy Sunday.