Day 40

Day 40, self quarantine 

Whoa, day forty.  Even an organized religion hating heathen like me knows the biblical significance of that number.  Forty days is the number used to emphasize times of trouble and hardship.

So if you believe this stuff:

When God destroyed the earth with water - you guessed it, it rained for forty days and forty nights.

Goliath taunted Saul’s army for forty days before David arrived to slay him.

You know I had to hit Google for this Bible info but I knew it was there and  there’s a ton more but I’m too lazy and disinterested 😎.  

You get the picture though.

Anyway, forty freaking days. We made it.

So one of the fascinating things I keep talking about are the subtle and not so subtle changes I’m noticing in Gary and me as a result of being in isolation together even after all these years as a couple.  I still get freaked out every time I walk downstairs and see Gary sitting at the dining room table with his laptop.  He’s lucky I don’t mistake him for a stranger and clobber him from behind with one of his fancy pans.

But nothing prepared me for last night.

I was doing my usual evening sofa sprawl Twitter surf and following along while Donald was doing his usual  unhinged presser.  Naturally I was making faces as I read my Twitter feed and naturally Gary asked me “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, just Grandpa Crazypants telling everyone if they inject disinfectant  and ultraviolet  light into their bodies it will cure coronavirus,” I replied, expecting Gary to sigh and walk out of the room.

“What a crazy motherfucker.  The only people dumber are his supporters.   How about the way he threw Kemp under the bus?” he replied instead.

Wait, what?!  I stared at him with my mouth open.

“You know about Governor Kemp?”

“Yeah, another genius.  Let’s head down to Georgia for haircuts, tattoos, and body bags.  But who I can’t believe is that fucker Mitch McConnell.  Dude looks and sounds like the Grim Reaper.  Cuomo burned his ass, huh.  I really like him, the guy is compassionate.  Why the hell isn’t he president?”

Excuse me?  This is Gary talking?  The guy who one month ago watched hockey 24/7 and refused to watch the news or discuss politics?

And not only that, hang on, how does he know all this stuff?  I know he said he checks out a little international news after I go to bed but I’ve been half awake the last couple of nights and I heard what he’s watching and no way did he get his information from that.

Is he going online during the day while he’s working on his new laptop?  Gary?  The guy who hates the internet and thinks it’s government mind control? You know I had to ask.

“Of course not,” he snapped.

Oh, really?

“Then how do you know about Cuomo, McConnell and Kemp?” I asked suspiciously.

“I get this stuff by osmosis,” he said.  “I just listen here and there.  You can learn things without an iPhone in your hand all day,” he added, giving me a pointed look.

I don’t know, I’m not buying it.

He’s got a secret source and I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.  

In other news, I’m really happy it’s the end of the work week. Other than profoundly missing my kids, I’m in a pretty good head today.  

I mean, c’mon, it’s pizza night.

I may even wash my hair.

Happy Friday!

Day 39

Day 39, self quarantine:

So yesterday was one of those rare, “Your every wish is our  command, Robin” days and I was so there for it.

Literally a few hours after I posted I was staying home until at least Memorial Day no matter what, my boss texted me that the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas was closed through at least Friday, May 29, and therefore we could expect the same.  In fact, his “conservative” opinion was we would return to work  June 1, but it could extend beyond that.

Yesssss.

It’s not that I think the virus is going to simmer down, I think we’ll have a much better idea of just how safe it is to venture out and what additional steps, if any, we need to take.

So that was a huge psychological relief for me.

And then...and I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad or anything, I was doing my usual I hate this fucking laptop banging my head on the desk, thinking to myself, “Man, I’m hungry, what do I want to eat”...when I’m not even lying, Gary appears in the doorway of Julie’s room I mean my office and oh my god, he brought up coffee and two slices of warm Jewish apple cake.

Warm apple cake.  Who does that spur of the moment? And how did he pull it off?

“Did you make this?”  I sniffed the air suspiciously.  I’m like a truffle pig.  If there’s something in the oven, I’m all over it in two seconds no matter where I am.

“Nah, I bought it at Whole Foods during our weekly smash and grab.”

Wut?

“How did I not know this was in the house?” I asked, with my unibrow arched.

“I hid it from you.”

“What?  You hid cake from me?  What am I, ten years old?”

“Yes.”

I laughed.  He’s right.

“Rob, we both know if you knew there was cake in the house, if you didn’t eat it the minute you saw it come out of the bag, you wouldn’t be able to sleep until you did.”

Truth.  

I still hide chocolate.  I’m hiding it from myself since it’s just the two of us and Gary rarely eats it.  If I have, say, a bag of salted caramel Lindor truffles and they are sitting in front of me on the coffee table, I will eat the entire bag in one sitting.  If I hide the bag in the jar on top of the bookcase (ooh now you know where I hide my stash) I would have to walk across the room in front of Gary to fetch one, after telling him I was too full to finish my salad at dinner just five minutes ago.

Even though he could care less and wouldn’t say anything.

I guess I really am ten years old.

Seriously, the reason our relationship has survived is we’re both addicts.  Hey, we grew up in the sixties - we have addictions that even extend beyond drugs and alcohol.  You don’t even want to know 😎

We’re both deeply flawed but we never lost our ability to laugh.

So yeah, in case anyone is wondering why else I’m not in a hurry to return to the real world, what job offers a coffee break with laughter and warm apple cake?

Hmmm.  Actually, mine kinda does.  The founder of our lawfirm is 80 years old and still very active.  Usually on Mondays, he walks around the suite with a big box of treats, stopping by everyone’s office to chat for a second and drop off a snack.  It’s really very charming, except for one thing.  The first year I worked there, he’d come around with Snickers and KitKats.  I don’t know what the hell happened, but he switched over to granola bars.

Feh.  That’s not candy.  If I want to eat styrofoam packing peanuts, I’ll save the boxes from my online purchases.

I still think it’s awesome he does this, though.

Sometimes it’s the little things, huh.

If you’re keeping track, Happy Thursday.