Day 46

Day 46, self quarantine:

So I’m getting my garden.

It’s going to be challenging. There’s literally ten years of neglect back there.  It’s kind of horrifying, actually, but Saturday and Sunday are supposed  to be nice and I will be satisfied if we can just fill up some garbage bags to start.

As Gary reminded me while rolling his eyes, we have to take it slow because  I have a bad back and now apparently a bad shoulder, too.

Why do I always forget I’m old, dammit?

I was brushing my hair when out of nowhere, it felt like my left arm separated from its socket.  Naturally, I’m left handed.  I freaking saw stars and let out quite a spectacular shriek, scaring the poor dog so much he shrieked back.

Gary, not so much.  He yelled from the other room, “What now?”

A shoulder dislocation or whatever the hell this is, is some serious pain.

Oh well.  I’m not going to the doctor during a pandemic, I just won’t brush my hair anymore.  Who’s going to notice, anyway.

But I will go out back to my dreamed of magical garden, and do heavy bending and lifting.  At least in theory. 😂😂😂

See, this is the problem with all of my schemes.  I never think them through.   Also, because I’m always in denial about my age, I continue to have fantasies like a 19 year old while forgetting I’m like 89.

I’m always plotting something, though luckily most of the time it stays in my head.

Gary calls the two of us Lucy and Ricky Ricardo.  Well, actually, he calls me Lucy and he assumes he’s Ricky.

Please no one tell him he’s really Ethel.

So yeah, I’ll just hoist up those rusted barbecues, bicycles and tree limbs with my bad back and *cough* throw them over my separated shoulder and dump them...where?  The sidewalk in front of my house? 

Oh god, downtown life.

We’ll figure it out.  Trash day is Wednesday, we can drag the stuff around twice, who cares.  I’ll wrap my tattered body in ace bandages and bungee cords if I have to.

Although my biggest fear is Gary snuck a tire or two in the mix in which case I’m going to have to kill him.

But, I’m not going to think about it now.  Gary is really worried that I might get hurt further  so he’s insisting we do this together with him doing most of the work and who am I to argue?

It really wasn’t that hard to get him to come around.

Oh, also, I cried.

Woo, did I ever.  It was ridiculous, I’m not proud, but for whatever reasons, the floodgates opened.

I don’t like pulling the weeping woman card, it’s not me, and I swear I didn’t plan it.  I guess seven weeks of being indoors terrified, combined with death and job loss, finally got to me.

Anyway, Gary saw how upset I was.

So yeah, I’m getting my garden.  It just won’t be ready for a while.

I’ll settle for June 1. 😜

In other news, I continue to be in work hell but at least the days are going crazy fast. And between work and these posts, I’m writing all the time so that’s kinda blissful.

Gary suddenly realizes he’s a free man and by last night he was all smiles.  He must have told me fifty times yesterday how amazing it feels not to think about customers and bids for the first time in over twenty five years.  He admitted it finally sank in, once he got over the hurt/anger/shock, and now he’s pretty much jumping for joy.

I’m kinda jealous.

Anyway, he’s so happy he’s got dinner planned for the next two weeks and I am so there for that.

There’s talk of Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday.  I’m not even lying.  Gary got the idea we should celebrate whatever.  Eric is part of this amazing concert livestream so we’re gonna blast that while we work outside and then come in and stuff our faces.  

Sounds pretty excellent to me.

Okay.  Time to get my brain in gear for Robin Slick, paralegal. Somewhere in this house there’s a heating pad.  My shoulder and I need to find it.

Happy...is it Thursday?  Yeah. I think it is.

Though I’m not really sure.

Day 45

Day 45, self quarantine:

So in case anyone is wondering, I did not manage to get Gary excited to do a backyard garden project.  

I blew it, though.  My delivery was awful and ill timed.  Trust me, I’m not being a martyr. Once I saw that pic and got the idea, I couldn’t wait to spit it out even though I know Gary is not a morning person. 😎

I’ll try again today.

You know what, though?  I’m pissed.  I always do anything to avoid confrontation, even if it’s at my own expense.  I didn’t used to be that way - what the hell happened?

Is being emotionally helpless and always apologetic another sign of aging?

Fuck no.  Not in my world.

So on Saturday, I’m going out there and starting the garden cleanup myself.  And if I can’t do it and he won’t, I’m hiring someone.

It’s that important to me.

Okay, I feel better now.

Speaking of houses, Eric and Natalie bought one!  Yay!  From the photos it’s huge and beautiful and I wish so much we could see it in person and be there for moving day Friday.

This virus...

I miss my kids.

I haven’t allowed myself to stress over any what ifs, but while I accept they live far away, even just a fleeting thought of any of us getting sick...

Never mind.

So I got my Arbitration Statement done yesterday.  Now on to the Mediation Statement, which is basically the same format - one is a NJ motor vehicle case, the other a PA slip and fall.

I can’t say I’m feeling it.

Can you call in sick when you work from home?

I know two people who died of the virus yesterday.

Some mornings  it’s hard to write.

Sorry.

Here’s to better days.