Day 191

Day 191, self quarantine:

Monday, September 21, 2020

Happy autumn.

Cool, cool, we’ve now been in quarantine during all four seasons.

Oy.

So I read this article yesterday and it fascinated me. Musicians are now doing virtual house concerts.

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/no-tours-or-live-shows-musicians-have-found-ways-bridge-n1240478

I am so here for that.  I told Julie last night we’ll be her first customer.

I think it’s a fabulous idea.

Groups of friends could even chip in for a private show and watch from their own respective homes.

In other news, I’m a little surprised to be writing here this morning. 

I thought I’d be in the shower.

Haha, let me explain.

Before he retired, Gary was in the wholesale plumbing business. His customers were everyone from builders to high end hotels.

He used to drive me nuts with his stories.

“Rob, you should see the cedar wood saunas I sold a condo on Rittenhouse Square.  They’re called therapy lounges.”

“Wait, what?  You sell something called therapy lounges?”

“Yeah.  I just told you that.”

“Would they fit in our house?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.  Why?”

“You sell something called a therapy lounge and we don’t have one?”

I glared at him. Seriously?  How could he possibly think I wouldn’t want a therapy lounge?

It always happened.  I would hear him on the phone all the time telling customers he had top of the line awesome everything.

Meanwhile, we had a forty year old one piece Corian shower and a broken garbage disposal.

“Why would you want a sauna?” Gary asked. “You never want to use them on vacation. You always told me you hate them because they make your hair frizzy.”

This is true.  

I also hate being hot.

But still, Gary sold cool stuff and all I ever got was a new toilet seat.

Until now.

Apparently sometime last year I bitched about the quality of our shower head.

Gary just happened to have a groovy new Kohler model at work.

He brought it home, never told me, and like most home improvements at Casa Slick, it sat in its box unopened in a place only Gary knew about.

Until I recently bitched again.

“Is there something wrong with our water pressure?” I asked.  “My shower was horrible.  The water came out in choppy spurts.”

Ugh, is there anything worse?

“I have to clean the shower head,” Gary said.

I scowled.

“I bet therapy lounges have good showers,” I said.

“What?  Therapy lounges?  Are we back on that again?  There’s no shower in a sauna, knucklehead. Oh never mind, I’ll fix the shower, calm down.”

Grrr...is there anything worse than being told to calm down?

Anyway, I did.  Calm down, that is. 

Quarantine arguing is horrible.  There’s nowhere to go and you really don’t want to piss off your only real human contact.

But woo hoo, it made Gary remember he brought home a new shower head and while I was downstairs sulking, unbeknownst to me he installed it.

I’m a hedonist.  The minute I stepped into my next shower, I felt that new awesome spray.  I looked up, was shocked to see the reason but put two and two together, and then stood under it happily for what felt like an hour.

Hot damn, I think I may have even asked that shower head to marry me.

I came downstairs smiling and happy.

It’s the little things.

Speaking of finding joy in the little things, yesterday it was birdapalooza in our yard.  Georgette and Lou perched in our tree and nuzzled while their babies sang and munched seeds on the ground below and Gary and I kvelled like we were  watching our own real kids.  We clutched each other’s arms and whispered excitedly watching the two lovebirds.

“Gary, take a picture,” I said.

“I’m trying, I’m trying.  If they see us, they’ll leave.”

Haha, we stood at the backdoor a long time.

Gary didn’t even watch football.

I know.  I don’t believe it either.

We were two lunatics, hiding on either side of the screen door, watching birds.

But oh they’re so gorgeous.  I still can’t believe a husband and wife cardinal visit our goofy apocalypse garden every day.

It’s so fitting, isn’t it?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Okay, that’s a wrap for today.  I’m trying to stay away from the news, it’s too grotesque right now and my anxiety rises every time I think about the election.

It’s just six weeks away.

Peace out, and if it’s not an oxymoron, happy Monday.

Day 190

Day 190, self quarantine:

Sunday, September 20, 2020

Holy cow, I’m on automatic when I type day numbers but I just realized we’re ten days away from Day 200.

Actually, if I wasn’t a senior, my quarantine would be over tomorrow, at least work wise, as the staff was ordered back this week.

We know where I stand on that so...

Nope, I’m still in quarantine with zero plans to do anything else.

I think it’s a huge mistake.  This is the calm before the storm of the next wave.

But I am not an expert, what the hell do I know, maybe I’m 100% wrong.

I’m just not willing to take that chance with my life or Gary’s.

A day at a time, that’s how we live here at Casa Slick and that’s all I’m saying.

For now.

Boy, if you ever want to know how much you’ve changed during six months of isolation, just keep a quarantine journal.

I had no idea I was that obsessed with facial hair and my ability to get my lip and eyebrows waxed.

I’m seriously cringing at my former value system.

I actually had to stop reading the early days of this journal, I sound like I’m hysterical, and not the good kind.  

I also babbled extensively about hating working from home.

I really can’t believe how much I’ve changed in six months.

Have you noticed changes in the way you view things now?

Here’s an example, maybe not the best one, but I’m struggling putting it into words. 

It’s like, I’m noticing that if I see something like an episode of SNL from last year where everyone is crowding the stage and kissing and hugging at the end, I get a whole range of emotions.  

It’s a mix of sadness and horror.

I literally feel horror at the sight of people close together without masks, even on television.

And that feeling is immediately replaced by sadness that I’m now programmed that way.

Anyone else feeling stuff like that?

“You think too much, Rob,” Gary told me when I ran it by him yesterday.

I know, Gary, I know.

It’s usually both a curse and a blessing but as we’ve already established, in the era of Donald, it’s definitely a curse.

There’s been a cool flip-side here about some things, though.

I blurt out everything that’s bothering me now. I keep nothing inside.

Yesterday, I got Gary to agree to a new living room rug, even though ours isn’t old or damaged, which is Gary’s usual criteria for replacing anything.

Haha, the red area rug I bought online without telling him three years ago was a tragic mistake and too big and hotel lobby looking for our house but once a very angry-at-me Gary unrolled it, moved all our heavy furniture, and laid it in place, much to my horror when I saw the results, I knew I was stuck with it.

And now being home the last six months and staring at it day after day and seeing it in pictures I post of my house has made me miserable and uh oh, I started thinking too much again.

I know that when you’re young, it’s all about acquiring things.

Welp, at least it used to be.

And when you’re a senior, it’s just the opposite.

It’s all about loss.

Family, friends, hair, teeth and other body parts/organs, etc.

And you start shedding possessions, not acquiring more, which is why we now have the Aldi rule at Casa Slick.

But as I look around my house and think of all the improvements we planned to make but never did, I can’t help but now think “and we never will.”

It’s a weird feeling and I know I shouldn’t be thinking it but I can’t help it.

So getting back to my stupid carpet, we’re sitting there watching television yesterday and Gary has no idea I’m having these thoughts when all of a sudden I said, “God, I hate this red carpet.”

But instead of looking at me like I’m nuts, Gary replied, “Yeah, I hate it, too.  What were you thinking?”

“Can we get a new one?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.  

In the old days pre-quarantine, getting Gary to agree to the new purchase and work involved surrounding said purchase would require me to concoct and work on a Lucy/Ricky Ricardo plan for days.

“Sure,” said Gary.  “But please let me measure first and show me the rug before you buy it this time since I live here, too,” he laughed.

Okay, who are you and what have you done with Gary?

I asked no more questions.  I knew the exact rug I wanted.  I’d been stalking it on line for months.  The website even had a feature where you take a picture of your room and you can see how the carpet will look.

I handed my phone to Gary.

He said he loved it without asking the price, and got out his tape measure.

“Do not order anything larger than 8 x 10,” he said.

That’s it?  No argument?  You don’t want to know what this is going to cost you?

Holy hell, have I spent the last fifty years plotting and planning for nothing?

You mean I could have just asked all these years?

People, even as I type this, I’m still digesting it.

I couldn’t have made that grievous an error in judgment.

I’m gonna ask the kids.

I think quarantine and retirement have changed Gary in a huge way, too, and I am so here for that.

The new rugs will be here Friday.

Oh, did I say rug(s)?

While I was ordering, I bought a new runner for the foyer.

Haha, I’ll tell Gary later today.

What can I tell you, old habits die hard.

But I can tell you this. My gratitude list was easy today.

Happy Sunday!

Day 189

Day 189, self quarantine:

Saturday, September 19, 2020

Yesterday, Gary began cooking early in the morning for our Rosh Hashanah feast and the house smelled like Thanksgiving all day.  

I was in a festive mood.

And then we sat down to dinner of a magical savory vegetable bread pudding with orange rosemary gravy, roasted baby sweet potatoes, fresh steamed corn, and cucumber tomato salad.

And then after dinner, I playfully tweeted, “Roses are red, violets are blue, I hope he dies tonight, I know you do, too.”

And then minutes later, CNN tweeted, “Breaking news. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg has died due to complications of metastatic pancreas cancer, the court says. She was 87.”

And then I almost collapsed over the obvious ramifications and the spectacular meal I just ate rose in my throat like I swallowed a bucket of sticks and ashes.

In shock, I tweeted in response, “Wrong person, God.  I guess Satan really is running things now.”

I meant what I said.

What the hell.

I don’t believe in organized religion.  But I like the holidays for the food and family and certain symbolism.

Rosh Hashanah is a time for reflection.  I’m down with that.

Seriously, the only thing that keeps me from being a complete atheist is I have no explanation for how we’re here.  I am not arrogant enough to suggest it’s simply science.

But how can there be a loving God when Justice Ginsburg is gone and he’s still here?

I don’t understand.

I don’t even understand how Tom Petty can be gone and he’s still here.

There’s only one explanation.

Satan really is in charge and he’s wearing many disguises.

Last night he was a senator from Kentucky.

Gary refuses to believe this nomination will happen.

“Don’t worry,” he said “You heard the news.  Justice Ginsburg told her granddaughter on her deathbed a few days ago, ‘My most fervent wish is that I will not be replaced until a new president is installed.’  They’ll respect her last wishes.”

Yeah, right.  I didn’t want to get into an argument on Rosh Hashanah but Gary still hasn’t grasped that our current government isn’t just horrible, it’s a transatlantic mob made up of international criminals and oligarchs.

McConnell is bringing Trump’s nomination to the Senate floor next week.

He didn’t have the time to pass a bill on his desk since May bringing economic relief to thirty million unemployed Americans but this he can do next week.

These people are committing crimes in broad daylight now.

I understand this is out of my control.  I know the next six weeks leading to the election are going to be even worse.

There’s major criminal financial news coming next week, I’m on Buzzfeed’s mailing list and they’re hinting at something catastrophic.

There’s Donald’s health.  He sounds like he’s mainlining heroin these days.

I dunno what’s gonna happen, I have no fucking clue.

I texted with my kids and we all want to leave this country.  We wish we could pack and leave tonight.

But we can’t.

So we’ll gather our strength and carry on.

What else can we do?

Wow, what a week.  We’re all going to have to wear our big girl/ boy pants on from now on and stay strong.

We’re in for some real insanity, people.  We ain’t seen nothing yet.

Oy.

Time for some daily gratitude.

(1) The early morning, when the house is still and I can be alone with my thoughts, writing.

(2) Fresh brewed coffee, especially that first sip.

(3) Birds.  It’s only taken me six decades to notice them but better late than never, huh.

(4) Jake.  Dogs are everything.

(5) Laughing with Gary.  Honestly, he makes me giggle like a kid every day.

I’m not sure what’s going on with us today, I’m still kind of dazed, but we have gorgeous sixties fall weather today so we better get some fresh air and step away from the news.

I highly recommend we all do it.

Happy Saturday.

Day 188

Day 188, self quarantine:

Friday, September 18, 2020

Wow, Friday got here fast this week, one of the perks of being unconscious the first half, huh.

So check out my new planter/statue/whatever. 

His name is Li’l Cap’n. Gary had to go to Lowes for something yesterday and came home with him.

While Gary was at Lowes, I was upstairs, cursing my computer because I got kicked off our remote system every five minutes all damn day.

I shook my fist at the ceiling.

“Is this a sign, God?  Are you telling me I should stop working?”

And then the office IT guy tried to tell me it was my fault.

I’m the least confrontational person in the world in suchlike matters but I finally snapped.  In fact, I went ballistic.

I fired off an email to IT guy and our office manager and cc’d my boss.

“I will not be treated like an idiot.  I treat everyone with respect and I expect the same in return...” blah blah blah.

I had some things I needed to say I’d been holding back since I began working there, i.e. dudes, I’m on your team, working for the good of the firm.  Don’t treat me like some lesser being or the enemy.

Seriously.

Gah!  It was horrible that I had to do that.  What’s wrong with people? Okay, rhetorical question but still. 

So I had my say and guess what, there was no more snark from anyone when I encountered yet more tech trouble an hour later.

It’s the new me, people. I’m armed with those monthly social security checks and ready to rumble. 😂😂😂

Anyway, back to the story. 

I heard the front door open.

“Rob! Rob!  Come downstairs!  Wait til you see what I bought!”

Ooh, presents.  I like presents.

I practically leapt out of my chair and raced downstairs.

“Look,” said Gary, pointing to Li’l Cap’n and grinning at me.  “I saw him at the check out counter and freaked out. I thought he would cheer you up after the rough week you had.”

Our eyes locked.

Mine filled up with tears.

Let’s go back many decades ago, pre kids, to our wild hippie selves.

Gary and I were at the beach.  We probably smoked two ounces of pot that day because back then pot was $15 an ounce and didn’t send you to the emergency room if you smoked too much.  You’d giggle until you got hungry, eat a few pizzas and a couple hundred Oreos, then smoke some more pot to settle your stomach.

It was fun.

Anyway, we were giggling pretty heavily when Gary realized he was thirsty.

“Rob, let’s go up to the boardwalk and get a drink,” he said.

“Noooo, I’m too high,” I replied, rolling over on my belly.  “But bring me back a bottle of water, okay?”

That’s the kind of shit I get away with til this day with Gary.

Yep, I’m a lucky girl.

So he went for drinks and I smoked another joint.

I know you had to be there, but when Gary returned, he was wearing a captain’s hat that he bought on impulse at the check out counter while paying for drinks.

I looked up all stoned and saw him standing there grinning with his long bushy hair hanging out of that ridiculous hat and I completely lost it.

“Cap’n Gary, Cap’n Gary,”
I laughed so hard my ribs hurt.

Then Gary started to laugh and pranced around talking like Thurston Howell, III and it was the kind of day and the kind of laughter you never forget.

Even if it was fifty years ago and we did smoke two ounces of pot.

For years, Gary would whip out that hat and put it on whenever he thought I needed a good laugh.

It always worked.

So when I saw Li’l Cap’n, even though our yard didn’t need any more stuff, my heart just about burst.

I’m giggling looking at him now through the window in the early morning light.  If he had some black mixed in with the brown, he’d look like Jake.

I love him.

So yeah, it’s the little things.

A gesture of love, whether tangible or not.

Something that makes you smile, or even better, laugh until your ribs hurt.

Anything that takes us out of ourselves and makes us forget our demons.

For me these days that means watching birds and yelling at Donald and his idiot supporters on Twitter.

Hey, whatever works.

So I’m good, Li’l Cap’n is wagging his tail and I’m ready to face today.  

Hope you guys are, too. Don’t forget your gratitude lists!

Real quick, here’s what I wrote today:

I am grateful for:

(1) Rosh Hashanah dinner tonight 

(2) The freedom of knowing I can retire 

(3) Walking Jake with Gary

(4) Autumn

(5) Jethro Tull 

Shana Tova!

Day 187

Day 187, self quarantine:

Thursday, September 17, 2020

Ah, I finally feel like myself again.

And the nice thing is, the week is almost over.

Yesterday began with the heartbreaking news of a young Philadelphia musician who couldn’t bear the pain anymore. 

 https://m.facebook.com/major.vanwinkle?tsid=0.7217849144712818&source=result

I immediately reached out to Julie and Eric feeling completely distraught and they’re okay, still just trying to take life one day at a time and finding joy in the little things.

Eric recently wrote about it, in fact.

“Some people out there are suffering much worse than me, and the amount of strain that 2020 is putting on them is insurmountable. A stockpile of debts that have no ceilings. At its worst: no foreseeable relief. It makes my heart hurt.

I do think there is always a way forward and I have gratitude for it. The world is continually changing and we’re adapting quickly, becoming more malleable as the days pass us by. I miss seeing faces in the crowd and I miss performing for everyone. I know that when the day returns, I will have a whole new sense of gratitude for the peaks and valleys.”

Here’s the rest of the article.  I’m so damn proud of him.

https://www.talkhouse.com/the-way-forward-eric-slick/

So yesterday, I literally sat down with a pen and notebook and made a gratitude list.

I’ve read on more than one occasion that making a gratitude list is cathartic and if you can force yourself to just write five things a day, there can be incredible benefits.

Of course this doesn’t work for everyone but here’s a great article why and you can make your own decision.

https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/tips_for_keeping_a_gratitude_journal

Writing my first five entries was easy.

I’m grateful for my family.

I’m grateful we’re in good health.

I’m grateful for a strong support system during seven months of quarantine.

I’m grateful I was gainfully employed during this apocalypse and I have a young boss who is someone I respect more than most people I’ve met in my long, cranky life.

I’m grateful for music.

As a writer, that was too easy.  This morning’s entries will be a little more challenging but I suppose I can start with a nod to Gary’s cooking. 😜

I’m not sure if I will keep sharing here what I write every day or not.  The pro side to that is it will keep me disciplined to do it like these daily entries, the con side is it might be too personal, or, let’s be real, too boring.

Or maybe we can have a group therapy day here every so often where we all list what we’re grateful for.

We’ll see.

So for those of you who messaged me, yeah that quadruple fatal shooting was about six blocks from my house.  Life in downtown Philadelphia in 2020, what can I say. We have a President funded by the NRA who screams LAW AND ORDER and I wonder if anyone has compiled a list of how many fatal shootings there’s been since Dementia Boy took office but yeah, yeah, I will shut up about that asshat, I am so over him.

By the way, whenever he tweets LAW AND ORDER I reply CHEESE AND ONIONS!

https://youtu.be/ePaHG6g7uFw

Probably only a handful of people get it but it makes me happy as hell.

I am probably going to be arrested if Donald is re-elected but hey hey, at least I will have a lot of cool cell mates.

In other news, Jake now nuzzles Gary on command.  That’s pretty awesome and maybe that will make today’s gratitude list.

It should!

Ooh, I just heard on the news we might not be turning the clock back October 31!  Yes!  The government is worried we might already have too much stress.  

Ya think?

I am so down with that!

I agree darkness happening at 5:00 pm in six weeks isn’t going to help anyone’s mental health.

So that’s it for today.  I’m still on my first cup of coffee and need another jolt of caffeine before writing in the aforesaid gratitude journal.

This morning I will try and reach down deeper though it’s tempting to just write “hand cut french fries.”

Stay safe and be grateful, everyone.

Happy Thursday.