Day 52

Day 52, self quarantine:

You would think that by day 52, I would have learned not to watch the news before bed. Some of you have warned me not to do that  and trust me, I warn myself, but I tell myself I’m watching to check the weather since the forecast on my phone is always wrong.

Though so is theirs because Mother Nature is really angry at us and every day is a breaking news adventure weather wise.

Old person rant of the day: When I was growing up, we had four distinct seasons in Philadelphia and the local news weatherman used a smiling  cardboard sun or a cloud with a sad face and dripping tears to show you conditions outside.

He was always right.

Now we have winters without snow, 70 mph winds, hurricane like rain, tropical summers, and idiots who deny climate change.

All I know is, I always have an umbrella available just in case.

Anyway, on the news last night, I was appalled to learn it was clear America is “re-opening “ despite a still mounting death toll from the virus and the fact that  “more people are going to die, particularly the vulnerable.”

I’m fucking vulnerable and so is my husband.

Yeah, I know, America thanks us for our service and here’s a bunch of thoughts and useless  prayers.

I don’t know how I feel, honestly.  I know we can’t stay inside forever.  

But everything I am reading says we’re in for a second wave of this thing and it’s going to be even worse.

And we’re not willing to sacrifice one summer?

I know that we’re in uncharted territory.   No one knows what will happen.  But ending quarantine too soon is like Russian roulette.

And it’s being encouraged by a mentally ill, criminal president whose only concern is being re-elected to avoid prison.

Anyway, I’ve already made up my mind.  I’m not ending quarantine at Casa Slick until I’m ready and if that means retirement earlier than I planned, oh well.

But yeah, I shouldn’t watch the news before bed.  

So yesterday Gary not only worked in the backyard, he cleaned the entire front of our house in preparation for filling the window boxes.

And as I predicted, okay fervently hoped, he got really into it.

In fact, he was so into it, I felt it was safe enough to show him the pic of the finished garden in a space identical to ours that I posted here last week without him freaking out and telling me he lives a day at a time.

He loved it.

So now I can start having those fantasies of lazy summer nights sitting in our yard.  

And I won’t do what I always do - buy stuff for the finished project before it’s finished. Because at least in my world, that’s insurance it will never be finished and whatever I bought will be added to the sad piles currently overflowing in our closets.

While I’m sure we still have room for some fairy lights, four comfy outdoor chairs and a fire pit, not so much.

Oh, you didn’t know I want a fire pit?  I didn’t know I wanted one, either, until I saw a pic while researching small city gardens.  Now I don’t see how I can possibly live without one. 

I’ll hold off telling Gary about that.

For now.

Anyway, the weather is crap today so I think progress will probably grind to a halt but you never know.  

Tomorrow is supposed to be gorgeous and according to his excited shout of “Yes!” Gary finally  found his electric  saw so I am more than hopeful I’m going to have that “before “ pic on Mother’s Day after all.

And bad weather today bodes for a great dinner tonight.

Though I think after Thanksgiving in May leftovers last night, we should have over easy eggs and a salad.

Ugh, can I just sit on my sofa and write this Facebook post all day?  I had kind of a terrible work day yesterday and I’m worried today will be more of the same.  It’s like the world has realized working remotely is still work and they’re cranking shit out like crazy to keep their jobs.  I’m in paperwork hell, and I have insane deadlines without the assistance of a desktop computer, copy machine, or high speed printer.

Whatever.

Forty five years is a long time to do something that isn’t a passion.

I better think on that.

Have an awesome day.

Day 51

Day 51, self quarantine:

Yesterday started off with me not feeling well, then it was clear Jake didn’t feel well, so then I got scared and woke Gary and then none of us felt well.

It all worked out - Jake had a minor stomach issue which cleared up and eventually Gary and I calmed down.

We don’t love that little weirdo too much or anything.  In fact that’s our rap name  for him - Li’l Weirdo.

But before I woke Gary,  I answered Jake’s 6:00 a.m. call of distress and while it wasn’t the outdoor trip I planned, it was obvious I was going to be taking him for a longer walk than usual.

So I got the walking with a mask issue under control without hours of neurotic pre-planning.

Other than the worrying part about Jake, it was glorious.

And then five minutes after we came home Jake let me know we had to rush out the door again.

After that I freaked out in fear and woke Gary.  Between the two of us, we got Jake to swallow some Pepto.  

Gary didn’t leave his side all day and I came downstairs once an hour to check on both of them.

Good times.

And then the day ended with my friend Andre texting me that Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer broke up and that shouldn’t have filled me with joy but it did.

Hey, I’m not perfect.

And now I have a backup plan if Gary ever leaves me.

Oh I’m kidding.

I’d never fit in his backpack. 😂😂😂

So today is groundbreaking in the garden and by that I mean the removal of at least two rusted barbecues, a bicycle, and a few filled industrial size garbage bags.

It’s going to happen.

And then we’re eating Thanksgiving in May leftovers.  This time I won’t ask for thirds.

I’ll also remember to take a pic this time before inhaling my platter(s) like I did on Sunday.

There’s also a rumor tonight there will be pie.

So at this moment, all is well at Casa Slick.

I’ll take it.

Day 50

Day 50, self quarantine:

Yikes, it really feels like a regular Monday today.  I’ve got the nausea to prove it.

I woke up at 4:00 this morning feeling off.  No virus symptoms, just a typical I ate too much on a Sunday and am paying for it now.

Ugh, I don’t understand why I still overeat when it makes me feel so vomitatious.  I stopped drinking for the most part two years ago for the same reason and never had any problem giving that up.  Why can’t I do the same with fat and sugar?

Oh yeah.  Because I never really liked the taste of alcohol whereas anything chocolate and all things cheese...

I would “call out sick” today but I’m afraid I’ll be tempted to call out all week...and beyond.

Another reason I may feel this way, and I’m kinda appalled at this, is that I blew a gorgeous weekend and stayed indoors.  I just realized I haven’t been outside since last Sunday.

Uh oh, that isn’t good.  Do I have to worry I’m becoming an agoraphobic now on top of everything else?

I can’t get used to walking and wearing a mask.  It makes me insanely claustrophobic. The idea of putting it on and walking more than a block fills me with anxiety.  I know it’s nuts, believe me.  As I sit here writing about it, I better get my sorry ass outside today and nip it in the bud before it becomes a serious problem.

Oy.  It’s always something with me.

This time last year, it was one month until Eric and Natalie’s wedding and we were excitedly doing a daily countdown.  Omg, can you imagine if they had planned their wedding this year instead?

My heart breaks for the couples who did.

Those two lovebirds moved into their new home this weekend.  I think I’m also a little sad we’re so far away and oh yeah, quarantined.  It’s beyond surreal to not be physically a part of such a major life event.

It was fun catching Eric on television last night for the Philly Loves Music event.  He played some exciting new material from his upcoming record.  What a fantastic weekend of music!  Gary and I watched all three days.  It’s a wonderful organization, providing quick micro grants to help musicians currently out of work.

They’re still taking donations here: https://lovefromphilly.live/

What touched us about the music is that everything was done from the heart.  Most were singing with just an acoustic guitar, coming from their childhood bedrooms where I guess a lot of the musicians have opted to return during the pandemic, either by choice or because the money ran out.

Or maybe some never left in the first place. 😎

I think maybe we’re going to see a renaissance period come out of this, especially once the evil is voted out of the White House and Senate in November.

The common thread between all the performers this weekend was that they are using the down time to make art.

So we should all feel good about that.

I know I love seeing all the pics of freshly baked bread...of artwork...of kids doing actual crafts with their parents...on social media.

There’s a part of me that hopes it never ends.

I know it will,  but I hope we remember what we learned during isolation.

For one thing, relax and take your time.  Just breathe. Unless it’s life threatening, nothing has to be immediate.

When did people get so  short of patience?

I think from the minute faxing and emailing came on the scene, everyone expects an instant response.

The problem is, sometimes fifty people at once are expecting that instant response and we’re only human.

I was sitting at my desk Friday morning and within one minute, I got seven emails, two faxes, three notes on our inner office memo system, and my cell phone rang.

Every single one dealt with something I had to respond to immediately.

I did what any well adjusted person does.  I put my head in my hands and shouted, “I can’t fucking do this!”

But of course I did.  Because that’s what you do if you want to keep a job in 2020.

Yikes.  I’m starting to go down a dark path this morning. Okay, enough of that.

I’m going to take my own advice and breathe.

Really not feeling so swell.

Some days are like that, yes they are.

Day 49

Day 49, self quarantine:

I overslept again this morning after having a vivid quarantine dream I was in a bar and was feeling drunk and sick but I couldn’t leave because I couldn’t find my server to get the check and pay my tab.

Woo, how many levels of crazy is that to analyze?

So in answer to everyone’s burning question, zero work was done in my proposed garden yesterday.  But I’m not mad.  

Let me explain.

The reason it’s hard to get stuff done around here is that there’s so much to do.  We had an awesome time raising Julie and Eric and couldn’t be bothered with silly things like home maintenance when we could be doing cool things like going to New York for a gig.

I figured doing stuff the right way and finally making every room perfect in this tiny little home would be the next phase of our lives once the kids were grown and had places of their own.  I mean, what else would we do when we were old?

I guess I didn’t realize that there would still be gigs to go to nights and weekends. 

Many, many gigs.

Or that Gary and I would be so exhausted after working a forty hour week that the idea of any other project that could be construed as work in our time off was repugnant.

Yeah, yeah, it’s already been established we’re still children mentally.

Anyway, every conversation about home improvement goes like this:

Me, after surveying the damage to our kitchen floor following a malfunctioning dishwasher:

“We need a new kitchen floor.”

I so want bamboo.  Can you use that in a kitchen?  Gary said something about linoleum from Lowe’s.  Over my dead body.  

But I had other problems.

“First I want to install a new countertop,” Gary said.

Ooh, a new countertop?  Does he even know how?  Can I get granite?  Please don’t tell me you’re making something yourself please don’t tell me you’re making something yourself...

Haha no worries, I would draw the line at that.

“So when are we getting a new countertop?”

“First I want to replace the range hood.”

“Oh.  Okay.  So when...”

“Before we do anything, I need to get up on the roof.”

“I thought we were getting a new roof this spring!”

Oh, right.  It is this spring.

Our house is 110 years old and now on top of everything else, our roof leaks every time it rains heavily.

Did I mention we also desperately need to paint this place?

You guessed it.  Can’t do that, either, with the ever present threat of water damage.

“I’m going up there to put a coat of (I forget what he said) and patch it.”

Omg.

“Why can’t we just get a new roof?”

Oh.  There’s a pandemic.

Also, and I know Gary could give two craps about this, but I would die a thousand deaths - when the roofers, who are friends of Gary are up there, they will see the pit of hell that is our backyard.

Also, there’s no way I can let them back there in its current condition.  They’ll get hurt and we’ll get sued.

Anyway, when it rained the other day, I had to put down a pot to catch the water.  I am so not living like that.

“I know you really want me to start working in the yard but I really need to get up on the roof first,” Gary said to me yet again yesterday morning.

I gulped and my eyes started to fill up.  

“I have everything I need already bought.  It won’t take me long, I promise.”

As much as I hated to concede and temporarily give up the dream, he was right.

Literally  every damn thing that needs to be done around here starts with a roof that doesn’t leak.

So I took a deep breath and gave Gary a look that told him Okay, then get the fuck up there and start patching because trust me, while I’m not confrontational 99% of the time, I have a breaking point and you don’t want to be around me when I reach it.

So he did.

And it rained heavily last night and we had zero water in the house.

I am not going to press him to go out there today.  Hey, he worked his butt off yesterday and he’s all excited to be making Thanksgiving in May dinner tonight - this was his idea and I am so down with that.

But the real reason I’m able to relax about today is that I have an ace in the hole to get him motivated to begin work out there tomorrow and stay out there all week.

Next Sunday is Mother’s Day.

And I’m not able to be with my kids.

Muhahahaha.

(Nobody remind him that due to our kids’ lifestyles, they are always on tour in May and I don’t even remember the last time they were home that time of the year - maybe 2005?)

(Also, shhhh I hate Hallmark holidays.)

Haha, so yeah, I’m pulling the Mothers Day card.  Don’t buy me chocolate, just make me a god damn garden and work out there every day this week so by next Sunday I can at least take a “before“ picture.

Okay, you can buy me chocolate, too.  Because chocolate.

So that’s my plan, and I’m sticking to it.

I just hope I can get Gary outside working before he finds out about the murder hornets.

Oh, you didn’t know about the murder hornets?

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/02/us/asian-giant-hornet-washington.html

Because apparently, Mother Nature hasn’t shown us how pissed she is at us already...

Jesus Effing Christ.  Can’t she just smite Donald, instead?

I will have to pray harder.

Happy Sunday.

Or in my case, Happy Thanksgiving 😎

Day 48

Day 48, self quarantine:

Happy Saturday!

Saturday really feels delineated from the rest of the week today, it really does.

Working all week with my husband sleeping in and taking it easy is not a piece of cake.  It requires me to totally rid myself of anger and resentment, just relax, and be genuinely happy for him.

You might think that’s easy but I’ve been very reflective during the apocalypse.  I’m angry a lot.  I just keep it inside most of the time.

I’m working on both of those character defects 😎

Anyway, I am up at dawn today not just to write, clean and watch Top Chef but because I’m excited beyond belief.  We’re starting the garden today!

Oh, Gary is still trying to get out of it.  

Last night we caught the weather forecast right before we went to bed.  We have our first sunny, seventy degree weekend since October.

“We should take a drive somewhere good,” Gary said.

I looked up in alarm.  Bastard! He knows how much I’ve been yearning for a walk on the beach! Don’t do this to me - I am weak!

A drive “somewhere good” meant Ocean City and boardwalk pizza in my world and Gary was fully aware of that.

But Gary has also lived with me over forty years and caught the look in my face.

“How’s your shoulder, Rob?” he asked instead.

“Fine!  Perfect!  I’m cured,” I lied.

His eyebrows rose skeptically.

Meanwhile, while I was staring back defiantly, I noticed something for the first time.

“Yo, what’s going on with your face?”

I tried not to giggle.

“Ha!  I was wondering when you were going to notice.  I’m calling it my corona bush.”

Somehow, without my noticing, my husband has grown a hipster beard during quarantine.

“Is this a new fashion statement?”  I asked carefully, not wanting to piss off the guy whom I hired to do my garden.

“Nah, it’s my playoff beard,” he said.

I burst out laughing.  I knew exactly what he meant but he told me anyway.

“We would normally be right in the middle of hockey playoffs,” he said.  “And all the players grow beards for good luck.”

“You’re a hockey player now?”

“Solidarity, Rob.  Solidarity.”

That is so Gary.  

But wait a second.  The playoffs have another 5-6 weeks to go.

“Sooo...you’re not trimming that thing until the first week of June?” I asked in horror.

“Nah.”

Whew.

“I’m not going to trim it until quarantine is over.”

Oh my God.

Listen, if I start seeing bits of food or birds in that thing, he is so shaving.  Or trimming.  Or whatever men do to groom facial hair.

I needed to get the conversation back to working on the garden.  Don’t ask me why, but if I didn’t have assurance we were going to do it, I wouldn’t be able to sleep.  

There’s that anger and resentment seeping in again.

It’s not easy being a woke psychopath.  

But seriously, what’s the point of tossing and turning all night imagining different doomsday scenarios when the person next to you is blissfully snoring and may even have every intention of doing the right thing?

So I had to resolve it before we went upstairs, risking a scene before bedtime.

“I’m really excited about this gorgeous weekend,” I said, turning off the lights.

“Me, too.”

Sigh...

I tried again.

“You sleeping in tomorrow or do you want me to wake you?”

“I’ll wake up early myself.”

In what universe was that?

Omg, it was so excruciating. 

Fuck it, I went for it.

“I am so excited about tomorrow!” I said.  Oy, whose squeaky, high cracking voice was that?

Meanwhile, If he said “What’s tomorrow?” I was going to smack him.

“I know we’re working out back tomorrow, Robin.”

Ooh, he called me Robin. Haha, that’s his angry name for me.  

I didn’t take the bait.  Instead I sweetly said, “I love you, Gary.”

He grunted in response.

Hahaha, I know he loves me. And I know he will make us a gorgeous garden and enjoy doing it.

The trick is to be patient and supportive, with patient being the key word.

And I admit it, patience is a new concept for me.

But hey, a person can change.

And as I’m also learning, this apocalypse is not just about change but how we react to it. 

How come I never learned that’s true in every single aspect of life, not just a pandemic?

It’s literally is the only thing we can control.

And on that note, Happy Saturday.

Day 47





Day 47, self quarantine

Today is Friday, May 1, 2020. Welcome to month two of the apocalypse.

If you had told me on March 13, 2020 that I would not be returning to my office for the next eight weeks but I’d be getting a paycheck, anyway, while wearing pajamas and hanging in my daughter’s former bedroom with the dog...

Or that my husband would be retired after being furloughed from his recession proof job of over twenty five years, and would be ecstatically planning the Summer of Gary...

Or that I would learn  scoring a roll of toilet paper would be one hundred times harder than scoring a half ounce of weed...

Or that I would be able to go two months without a haircut, touch up, manicure, or facial wax without losing my super powers or my mind...

Or that I would  be able to turn almost anything into a mask if you gave me two rubber bands...

Or that I would  wear that mask whenever I left my house and be furious at anyone not wearing one...

Or that I would willingly stay inside for days at a time and never venture outdoors unless I absolutely had to...

Or that I would ever participate in anything called Zoom...

Or that the schools would be closed for the summer in the winter...

Or that there would be no more proms or graduations...

Or that I would live in a world without live music...

Or that there would be no movie theaters...or no Broadway...

(Okay, I’m cool with no Broadway)

Or that there would be zero major league sports...or any sports...

Or that I would be happy to be watching ten year old reruns of even minor league sports...

Or that there would be no fine restaurant dining...or any restaurant dining...

Or that I would be afraid to order a pizza unless it was delivered “contact free”...

Or that I would even know what contact free...or social distancing...or food insecurities...or flattening the curve meant...

Or that the downtown streets of my usually bustling city would be desolate and boarded up...

Or that there would be Wawa trucks parked outside local hospitals used as makeshift morgues...

Or that our family and friends would die alone and in isolation...

Or that there would be no funeral services for them...

Or that it might be a year before I would hug my kids again...

Oh my god.

If you had told me to just imagine any one of these things, I would have told you don’t scare me with outrageous science fiction projection but okay, with the exception of working in pajamas and Gary’s retirement, of course I couldn’t do it, I would never be able to live in a world like that.

Never.

But I’m doing it, aren’t I.

And so are you.

Congratulations.  Everybody take a damn bow.

I’m not joking.

Somehow, we’re figuring out how to survive in this new bizarre world, one day at a time...one second at a time...with a deadly virus hanging over our heads and a President so incompetent and mentally unhinged it’s breathtaking.

I don’t know about you, but I’m finding out I’m a hell of a lot stronger than I thought.

(Though admittedly, that bar was low.)

Anyway, we made it.

Happy Friday ❤️

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.