Day 94

Day 94, self quarantine:

Hey hey Tuesday.  You’re looking good!

So here’s something I thought I’d never say:  Bless you, Justice Gorsuch.

Here’s another thing I never thought I’d say:  I learned of the historic decision from Gary, who was glued to MSNBC while I was upstairs working.

“I have breaking news!” he said excitedly.

Oh god.  What now?

“Oh, yeah?  Pray tell.“

Woke Gary is so adorable ❤️

“I should call Julie with the news,” he beamed.

“I think she’s probably still sleeping in Seattle,” I smiled.

“Yeah, but I want...”

“She’ll see as soon as she wakes up.”

Too funny.  Because he refuses to get a smart phone and just started watching cable news for the first time in his life, Gary doesn’t realize we’re all “in the loop.”  He’s getting his first real taste of breaking news.

He thinks it’s something new and he discovered it.

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Welp, to be fair, we didn’t used to have breaking news every damn hour of every damn day but then again, we didn’t have a mentally ill imbecile with likely dementia in the White House  cowering in a bunker behind a baby gate before, either.

But it was a beautiful thing yesterday to discover Trump and his hideous minions haven’t completely broken America yet.

Sigh...

So tonight is the final trash night and our yard officially becomes a garden.  This time I mean it!  

We’re so damn excited.

Wait’ll Gary finds out what his next project is.

I’m gonna have him officially turn Eric’s former bedroom into his own man cave music room.

We flirted with the idea ten years ago when Eric first moved out but like every other spare space in this tiny house, we started using it for storage, i.e., the place where things end up that we’re not sure we want to throw out yet.

Ahem, I mean things that Gary can’t part with.

Oy, I really have to introduce him to Marie Kondo.

https://konmari.com/

I actually tried a few years ago to get Gary to let go of some of his possessions but my fatal mistake was telling him it was called Swedish Death Cleaning.

“You want me to do what?!” he asked, his eyes widening in horror.

I tried to explain the concept to him but all he did was wrap his arms around his towers of Keep on Trucking t-shirts, bongs and eight track cassettes and stare at me like You will have to pry these from my cold, dead hands.

So yeah, when he’s done out back, Gary’s gonna build himself a playroom and I will have an official place for all his weird stuff.

In other news, yesterday wasn’t entirely awesome.  Eric texted that their dog Marvin had two seizures and was in the hospital.  Oh god, that’s the worst.

As I texted to Eric, “This adult stuff isn’t always fun, huh.”

The news wasn’t good for Marvin but they’re going to try anti- seizure medication and a holistic diet and as long as he’s not suffering...

Eric and Natalie are so distraught.  It’s their one year anniversary next week.  I can’t even believe it.

We are all heartsick but as always, I encouraged Eric to live in the moment and be grateful that he and Natalie are not out touring like they would normally be this time of year and now they can spend every day with Marvin.

None of us could have predicted the events of 2020, huh.

A raging pandemic, over a hundred thousand dead, and forty million Americans out of work, including my husband and all three kids.

To the people who told me I’m overreacting and my life and the lives of “most” Americans  won’t change even a little bit just because Trump was elected...

Fuck you and fuck you hard.

Okay, I feel better now.

And on that note, I’m heading upstairs to work.

Later, apocalypse dudes.

Day 93

Day 93, self quarantine:

Welcome to Monday, week fourteen, day ninety-three of the apocalypse.

I should call this post Baby Steps.  That’s what yesterday felt like.

As it turns out, it was a good thing Gary looked at the CB2 catalogue last week.

It was his introduction to the real world.  It’s not 1973 anymore, Gar.

In all fairness, I am in charge of finances at Casa Slick. Gary lost that right in the beginning of our marriage when he forgot to pay the electric bill for three months and guess what happened.

So he still thinks our monthly electric bill is $9.00 like it was in nineteen diggity-two when we got married.  He really has no clue what things cost.

Anyway, he started nervously yapping about patio furniture and CB2 in the car on the way to Lowes. 

“So you’re not hoping to find a $2,100 outdoor nesting table at Lowes, are you?” he asked nervously in his best Thurston Howell, III voice.

I took a deep, measured breath.

“No, but I am hoping to find a chair or two for that price,” I replied.

To his credit, Gary kept both hands on the steering wheel and didn’t drive off the road.

He didn’t answer me at all.

But the first seed was planted.

Muhahahaha.

We pulled up at Lowes and my anxiety kicked in.  There were too many people.  I questioned our sanity being out in public with 350 new coronavirus cases in Philadelphia overnight.

But everyone was wearing masks and once inside, it really was easy to be even ten feet apart.

It was still unnerving, though. I’m not doing it again for the foreseeable future.

Luckily, the patio furniture was right where we walked in.

I could see immediately their furniture was dreck but I didn’t want to be Debbie Downer and screw up any future shopping trips for when it feels safer.

Gary inexplicably walked over to a large table with six chairs and an umbrella.  I saw him examine the price tag.

What was he doing?  We have a twelve foot garden.  That thing was a faux wood monstrosity which would literally eat up all our space, if it fit at all, which I seriously doubted.

“Hey, Rob?  Come see this.  The whole set is only $800!”

Oy vey.

Suddenly I understood.  It was a six piece set and he divided six into $800 and found a way he could justify  paying anything over $150 for furniture.

So what if he wouldn’t have room for his barbecue let alone any plants.

Or be able to get out of his chair without hitting the fence.

I walked over, feigning interest.

“This is nice, isn’t it?”  Omg, Gary looked so cute but was he really that clueless?

That table was fugly.  No other words.

“Oh, yes,” I lied.  “But isn’t this more for a big suburban back yard?  I was thinking more of a conversation set.”

Holy hell, the minute I said it I knew it was a misstep.

“A what!?  A conversation set?  What might that be, Mrs, Bucket?  Will we be having a candlelight supper back there on our Royal Doulton with the hand painted periwinkles?”

Only if we buy the monstrosity you’re looking at, babe.

“Haha,” I said instead.

“So do tell, Mrs, Bucket, what’s a conversation set?” Gary asked.

“This,” I replied, walking over to two wicker chairs with blue cushions and a small wicker accent table where Gary could keep an ashtray.

From where I stood it didn’t look half bad and was definitely in line with what I was thinking but when I saw it up close, Ew, gross, it wasn’t wicker, it was plastic.  

Gary studied the price tag.

“Hey, Mrs. Bucket?  This conversation set is only $500.00,” he said hopefully.

It was hilarious how quickly $500 was now a bargain.

I pointed out that despite being a “bargain ,” we were looking at a poorly constructed plastic table and chairs made in China.

“Omg, look at the cushions,” I said disdainfully.

“What’s wrong with them?”  Gary was getting into it now.  He was starting to realize that this trip might not cost him anything after all.

😂😂😂

I showed him the strings hanging from the fabric  and lumps where the cushions were stuffed unevenly.

“I can’t believe they’re getting $500 for this,” I said as indignantly as possible.

“Me, either!” Gary vigorously agreed.

This was going to be almost too easy.

The furniture in the CB2 catalogue will be mine.

Anyway, in the meantime, I need something now while I wait for CB2’s big outdoor furniture sale.  I’m desperate to sit out back!  If I go to Target and get a couple resin chairs, I might get stuck with them forever.  I’m through settling for things that don’t bring me joy.

What to do, what to do.

I had a stroke of genius.  We need new chairs for the beach.  Therefore we’ll just buy a couple chaises and also use them in the garden for now.

So in the end, I do have to be Lucille Ball but Gary really is the perfect Ricky.

Jeez, I’m wordy today.  I haven’t even talked about the french doors yet.

The doors may be a tad more difficult.

I gotta think on it.

In the meantime, I had another stroke of genius.

We bought a screen door.

I can now see outside to the garden and the fresh air feels divine.  I realize what I’ve been missing, sitting here in the dark.

Gary thinks he’s off the hook for $79.

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

(Where’s the emoji for laughing so hard you bust a gut?)

So yeah, yesterday was more like baby steps but fuck me, it was progress and as long as I - or you - can still move forward on any given day, all is well, right?

Right!

Okay, enough out of me.  Time to head upstairs to ye olde home office and start the week.

Play nice today, apocalypse dudes.