Day 90

Day 90, self quarantine:

Omg, it’s Friday and day 90.

If these posts ever become a book, I can call it 100 Days of the Apocalypse.

Governor Wolf announced last night that Philadelphia isn’t going green until at least June 26...but that’s assuming there are no spikes in cases/ deaths, which I hate to tell you, ain’t happening.

But in any event, yesterday was most excellent.

I went downstairs to grab a cup of coffee around 11:00 a.m. and Gary was glued to the television.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I stood there silent for a few seconds until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Hi! What the hell are you watching?”

Gary turned around with an offended look on his face.

“I’m watching Great Conversations,” he said.

“Wut?!”

“It’s a PBS show that interviews authors,” he said.

Dude, I know. Being on the show with my new bestseller is one of my many fantasies.

The shock is that you’re watching.

I cleared my throat. “Who’s the author?”

Gary stared at me. “You don’t know?”

Not a clue. Oh shit. I’m supposed to be the smart one in this duo. I tell him that all the time. And she’s an important writer, yet.

“It’s Doris Kearns Goodwin,” Gary said before I could lie about not being able to see the television from where I was standing.

“Oh, that’s right,” I lied anyway.

Who the fuck is Doris Kearns Goodwin?

“She won a Pulitzer but I guess you knew that,” he said.

“Yeah. Of course. Be right back,” I said, turning around.

I slid into the bathroom with my phone and googled Doris.

Okay, got it. Historian. Writes biographies of presidents.

Well, geez, no wonder I never heard of her. I skimmed enough to be able to bullshit and walked back into the living room.

“Did you read her new book?” Gary asked.

New book?

“Hang on, I have something in my eye,” I replied, darting back into the bathroom.

I googled Doris’ new book and put eyedrops into my eyes for effect.

Someone please explain to me why, after forty years of wearing contacts, I still close my eyes and open my mouth when putting in eye drops?

Does. not. taste. good.

Anyway, there was no way I could tell Gary I read a book called “Leadership in Turbulent Times” and get away with it but I guess he figured it out for himself.

“We need to order her book, she hates Trump,” he yelled into the kitchen, where I stood drinking juice to get rid of the taste of Bausch & Lomb.

Wait, wut? Order her book?Wut?

Who are you and what have you done with Gary?

And I thought it was insane when he threw a fit last Monday when he realized Trevor Noah was on vacation for another week.

“How can he be on vacation now? Now?!” Gary cried, looking at the images of Trump’s secret gestapo police guarding the Lincoln Memorial on MSNBC.

Oh, yeah. He watches that, too.

I know, right?

Okay, let’s recap.

Up until Wednesday, March 11, 2020, the last night of televised major league sports, other than a television show with our kids or something stellar music wise...or a Simpsons or a Three Stooges from 1935...Gary watched nothing but sports 24/7. He’d watch sumo wrestling with subtitles before he’d watch Great Conversations with Doris Fucking Kearns Goodwin.

I dunno, I’m finding the new Gary very attractive 😎

This could be a Hallmark Channel movie. Gruff sports hippie guy gets quarantined wIth bookish nerd and they fall in love regardless and he starts to read and she starts to like ice hockey ...

Oh.

😂😂😂

In other news, I am feeling guilty because I have a great boss and I’m always yapping about work without mentioning how much I like him and it’s the real reason I just don’t retire now. Anyway, I feel like I didn’t give it my all this week, so what does he say to me yesterday?

“Great job this week! If there’s nothing that requires my attention, we’ll start fresh on Monday. Just tie up any loose ends you have.”

Yessssss.

It’s as if he knew I needed that.

I started rapidly tying up. Everyone I called actually answered. I sent emails and wrote myself notes with a plan for next week.

I felt like a new person.

Isn’t it amazing how much a simple kind gesture or simple kind word from someone can turn your entire day around and change your entire mood?

Something to think about on this Friday, fellow apocalypse dudes.

Go forth and conquer 😎

Day 89

Day 89, self quarantine:

Welp, we made it to Thursday.

I dig Thursdays, we’re almost done for the week and more importantly, from Memorial Day through Thanksgiving there’s a Thursday Farmers Market right around the corner from my house.

Farmers Markets are everything.

Every Thursday night Gary makes something insanely delicious from his purchases though this time of year I’m happy with a sandwich of sliced Jersey tomatoes.

With a side o’fries, naturally.

I have to have Indian food this weekend, though. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without it - I’m having sexual dreams about samosas and navratna curry 😎

I’m pretty sure this is the weekend our yard finally becomes a garden so an Indian feast afterward seems fitting.

Haha it’s fitting that on Thursdays my thoughts turn to food. I have had a food = rewards = love thing going on since I’m like eight years old and I’m pretty sure I passed that on to both kids.

Natalie and Katie lucked out ❤️

I wish I were video savvy and could film a Slick family cooking show on YouTube.

I have ideas, people.

If I decide to retire in the near future, a decadent vegetarian cookbook is coming.

Anyway...

Yesterday was phone call day at work. I actually had to talk to people.

Feh.

I communicate so much better via the written word. And I loathe making mindless small talk with strangers. But...clients.

Oh yeah, I also blast music at the home office. I had Frank Zappa on and I was bopping around while I worked when my cell phone rang. It was someone I’d left a voicemail for and because I can’t do two things at the same time, I answered the phone without turning off the music and because I am using the ancient crappy office laptop without a mouse and also I am old, I couldn’t shut off the music so I ended up having to walk into the bathroom to take the call where the reception was terrible, thought I heard a figure of $3000, told my boss who got all alarmed and said Call them back it’s supposed to be $52,000 and then of course it was $52,000 but I couldn’t hear because I was in the bathroom because I couldn’t figure out how to turn off Frank Zappa and then I had to explain that to my boss and why is nothing ever easy?

So yeah, I hate the phone.

And my boss, who is only a couple years older than my kids, thinks I’m a juvenile delinquent.

Haha, he’s right.

I did have one cool phone moment yesterday. A court reporter I’ve known for years told me excitedly she heard Eric’s new single on the radio.

Shhhh.

I’m not supposed to tell.

But since it’s already been played a few times and Gary and my emails

both blew up with other friends who heard it, here’s the story.

The record was supposed to be released last week. Understandably, Eric made the decision to postpone its release until August. WXPN had an advance copy and it was already programmed in.

So yeah, a bunch of people heard it and they’re blown away. It’s power pop and the perfect anecdote for the state of things...just not this particular moment in history.

But it’s worth waiting for. I can’t stop singing along.

See what I mean when I say I know I have a lot of positives?

Gary and I have had XPN on almost 24/7 since the apocalypse. We were sprawled on the sofa talking when all of a sudden we heard “...and here’s a new song from Eric Slick - Eric is the longtime drummer for Philadelphia band Dr. Dog...” and Gary and I just looked at each other, stunned, because we weren’t expecting it and it was so damn surreal to hear...not to mention it’s an awesome fucking song...

So that was cool 😎.

And now there’s something other than my birthday to look forward to in August.

Okay, I’m pretty sure this is catch up with clerical bullshit day at ye olde home office, which means banging out followup letters and scheduling depositions. Boring as fuck but after the week I had, I’ll take it.

I’m going with Ian Dury and the Blockheads today.

Peace out, apocalypse dudes.

Day 88

Day 88, self quarantine:

Woo, for once I’m happy to see a Wednesday.

How’s everyone doing?

I have been having an unexpected struggle the last few days and I’m wondering if all the stress of the last three months has finally caught up with me.  I’m really having a hard time focusing.

Yesterday, I forgot I was working altogether.

I always come downstairs between 1:00-2:00 p.m. to have lunch with Gary.  It lends a sense of normalcy to my work from home life and breaks up the day nicely.

It’s also the fastest damn hour of the day.

I  was sitting on the sofa at 1:55 p.m. lamenting that when Eric texted.

And because I am me, I get unreasonably excited when Eric texts, especially since I haven’t seen him since February 2.

So when his text called for a response I shockingly had extensive knowledge about, I ended up having a long, animated  conversation with him via text.

“Hey, Rob?  Don’t you have work?” Gary asked me at 2:30 p.m.

Omg!  I was so involved texting with my son, I just...forgot?!

I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but I got really flustered.  I went back upstairs and I had so much work I just put my head in my hands.

The morning hadn’t been much better.  I kept getting booted from our office remote system and the more I cursed at it, the worse it got.

Anyway, it was a strange day.

It really was like everything hit me at once.  Three months of isolation, Gary’s unexpected retirement, coronavirus deaths of people close to me, and the big cherry on top, the events of the past week.

I really miss my kids.  It’s surreal that I can’t just hop on a plane and see them, and it might be like that indefinitely.

I literally felt waves of sadness wash over me like some crappy romance novel and I kind of lost it and had a pretty good cry in Julie’s former bedroom now my office.

Everything felt really horrible and hopeless.

Anyway, luckily I am also pretty strong and I know how to make things better.  I started focusing on all the positives in my life and there are many.  And then by chance I saw a tweet by my friend, Ellen:

“In honor of the fascist's deplorable & disgusting remark about Martin Gugino, the Buffalo man who was pushed to the ground by police and suffered a skull fracture, everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) should donate $10 to Joe Biden's campaign.  Right now.”

https://joebiden.com/

So I did.  And I felt so much better instantly that I began a frenzy of contributions.

I’m not going to be obnoxious and list names and amounts, but I will tell you this, I put my money where my mouth is as concerns my hatred of Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham.

I felt so much better.

But yeah, this is a tough time. We’re reopening but we’re not eating inside restaurants or seeing live music or sports...we still don’t know if this thing is going to come roaring back in two weeks or two months.

It’s really stressful.

And for Gary and me, there was a real sadness in making the decision not to protest. But we’re just too vulnerable.

Even the two of us got a little snippy with each other the last couple of days for the first time since the apocalypse started.

“Why do you sound so angry?” I asked Gary after, okay, he almost bit my head off for suggesting we hire someone to come pick up our junk too massive to simply put out in the trash.

Haha, I learned this trick from Soledad O’Brien on Twitter. Never ask a question that can be answered Yes or No

Gary looked at me helplessly. He knew he had no damn reason.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Maybe it’s the virus. Everything is making me crazy.”

“You think you have the virus?” I asked alarmed, running the symptoms through my head.

Nah, being an asshole isn’t one of them. 

😂😂😂

We made up over Eggs Benedict and roasted potatoes.  Gary subs out the bacon with avocado for me.

It’s good.

So I’m hoping I turned some kind of corner and today will be a better day.

It almost has to be.

(Seriously knocking wood here)

Stay strong, fellow apocalypse dudes.

I’m so proud

THAT MOMENT WHEN YOU KNOW FOR CERTAIN THAT YOU RAISED YOUR CHILD RIGHT ❤️❤️❤️

Day 87

Day 87, self quarantine:

Yikes, I overslept this morning.

That never happens.  I blame the dog.  I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and Jake immediately got in my spot, head on pillow and everything.   So when I got back into bed, I spooned him and fell into a deep, blissful sleep.

I’m such a freak, I work from home but I still need three hours of zen time before starting in the morning or I’m all discombobulated.

Haha I really can’t get it together right now.  I feel like a trapped rat, looking at the clock and realizing I am only on my first cup of coffee and only have about an hour before my boss starts texting.

I’m thinking I should start using some of my vacation days sooner rather than later. Woo, I’m a mess.

I feel bad, but unless you’re amenable to a three hour rant about Donald, I got nothing today.

Though once I start, three hours is just the preface.

No worries, the little pussy liar needs no help from me this morning, he’s now an international laughingstock known as Bunker Boi.

Okay, enough.  My mother always told me, if you can’t say anything nice, say nothing at all.

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Here’s to a better tomorrow.

Day 86

Day 86, self quarantine 

It’s Monday and the start of week thirteen of the apocalypse for those of you still keeping track.

It looks like less people are quarantining.  I personally am not that confident.  

I’m still sheltering in place and limiting who I see.  I really think this month is going to be very telling and I’m hanging out here until there’s a better idea if the virus is spiking again.

I hope not. 

I read an interesting article that says the virus thrives in places like meat packing plants with recirculated air, but at beaches, not so much.

Fine, I will work at the beach all summer.

In other news, we killed it in the garden yesterday. Unfortunately I also killed myself.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” Gary asked as I leaned on my shovel after hitting something weird and trying not to scream.

Okay, me leaning on a shovel is a phrase I never thought I’d type but I digress.

“I’m fine,” I said weakly.

My shoulder did that weird thing again where it feels like it’s separated from its socket. The pain was excruciating.

I didn’t want to tell him.  I just wanted to finish cleaning the yard.

But what did I just hit with my shovel?  

“What’s wrong?!” Gary asked again.

“Nothing,” I replied except it came out in an unnatural high squeak.

Suddenly, I had a terrible, chilling  thought.

Don’t faint don’t faint don’t faint.

“Hey, Gary?  Can I ask you something?  Where are Beavis and Butthead buried?”

Gary looked over at me and froze.

I stared back in horror.

Oh god.  

Oh, no.  No, no, no, no.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

Gary started laughing.

“They’re buried by the center back wall.  Why?”

Bastard!  But thank freaking god.  

I was digging at the right front side. 

I hated those fucking hamsters, they’ve been dead since 1998, but the last thing I wanted to dig up and see were their mummified corpses.

They always used to escape from their cages and then sneak up and scare the hell out of me.

Once I was stoned and reached for a bag of Doritos...

Don’t even ask.

I’m lucky I didn’t die of a coronary.

I still don’t know what I dug up yesterday, though.  I decided not to ask for an opinion.

I put my big girl pants on and powered through.

And then my neck and back betrayed me, too, and started screaming in agony along with my left shoulder and I thought motherfucker, I better not die right before this garden is finally finished, I will be so pissed!

Damn this getting older stuff is brutal.

“Can you come over here and hold the trash bag open for me?” Gary asked just as I was about to throw in the towel.  

Yessssss.  

I stood there doing my VIP job of holding a garbage bag open for Gary while I waited for the various spasms of pain attacking the various parts of my body to subside and then Gary asked if he could take a break and I almost wept in gratitude.

We went inside and had leftover cornbread and coffee and got our second wind.  I went upstairs and snuck two Tylenol which did nothing but make me nauseous though I told myself it was working anyway.

We ended up getting a lot done and assuming there are no virus related scenarios, derechos, riots, etc. we’re buying outdoor furniture next weekend and planting lots of flowers.

That’s a pretty big assumption, though.  

I think I saw the Farmers Almanac predicted an alien invasion this month.

I just want to get this project done before Mercury goes into retrograde on the 18th.

😂😂😂

So speaking of hamsters, this is what kind of father Gary is.

Beavis and Butthead had a sibling, Cornholio, who predeceased them by a couple months.  Corny slept in a cage in Eric’s room.  

Unfortunately Corny decided to expire the evening before Eric had an important test.  

Gary noticed when he was tucking young Eric in.

Eric loved that hamster.  He would have freaked out and never been able to go to school, let alone take a test.

So Gary got a spatula and moved Corny’s body around in his cage all night so Eric wouldn’t notice he was deceased.

Now that’s a dad.

I was grossed out for months. 

Ah, memories.

Or mammaries, take your pick.

Needless to say, I am not feeling work today but I’m thinking of taking Friday off so maybe it’ll be a short week.

When I tell you every bone in my body hurts this morning, I am not even exaggerating a little bit. 

Sigh...

I better head upstairs to the home office early before I don’t head up at all.

Sitting at a desk all day is going to be lovely NOT.

Luckily I am home, in pajamas, and have an excellent heating pad.

Later, fellow humans.

Something beautiful

Something beautiful for this afternoon, courtesy of my daughter-in-law ❤️https://youtu.be/Y2SSUTubs30

Day 85

Day 85, self quarantine:

I’m sorry, I’m laughing my ass off this morning.  

There were MASSIVE crowds protesting in Washington, DC yesterday, Donald.  Way bigger than attended your pitiful inauguration.

There were massive protests all across the country, in fact. Philadelphia was breathtaking.

And where were you, Donald?  Hiding behind your baby gate, itching to unleash your scruffy band of mercenaries but no one gave you a reason and now you’re an international laughingstock, Bunker Boi.  

Just like the people stupid enough to support you!


Some of our stronger political leaders marched with the protestors.

Not you, President Pussy.  You’re a coward and you’re weak.

Just like every other racist.

Okay, I feel better now.

So no beach today, I think I am taking Friday off and going then.  We ended up working in the garden a lot harder than we thought yesterday - the storm partially severed a branch of our tree and Gary had to climb up on our roof with a saw. 

I wasn’t having too much of a stroke watching that.

And while it was happening, my phone blew up with texts from both kids and friends.

No one knew I was freaking out, I didn’t act like my senior citizen husband was hanging off a  two story roof with a power tool, I replied like I was calmly sitting here watching television.

Eric would have lost it.

Anyway, once Supergeriatric Man was finished sawing, there was a gigantic mess of twigs and leaves.

How is it possible we have 16 more trash bags?

This is the third box of forty trash bags I opened since we started this project.

So that was a bummer.

I told Gary we should just order a pizza last night because by the time we were done we were exhausted, but I got him all fired up to make macaroni and cheese and cornbread and he wasn’t letting that dream die.

So he not only went in the kitchen and made that, he made himself buffalo chicken legs and me buffalo cauliflower.

Omg, it was like bizarro Christmas at Casa Slick.

I’ll post a pic tomorrow on leftover night.  I was so hungry by the time dinner was finally on the table I took one crappy pic that looks like a plate of yellow-orange food.

Oh.  

It was.

There was nothing green at all.

I will rectify that on leftover night.

Maybe.

Today we are swinging by the local hardware store to pick up plants and vegetables so that’s exciting.  No outdoor furniture yet like I hoped, but that should be next weekend.

I could ask Gary to hang the fairy lights but I feel like that should be the very last thing we do - switch on the lights - so I will keep them hidden for now.

Anyway, I think that’s it for today.  I added Hulu to my cable plan and they have every single season of Top Chef going back to 2002.  I only started watching like five years ago so if you’re looking for me at dawn for the next several months, you know where to find me.

Have fun today, apocalypse dudes.  

Day 84

Day 84, self quarantine 

Yay, it’s finally Saturday.

I’m worried.

Please please please if you are protesting today, be careful.

Trump is itching to let “his” military loose with a big I TOLD YOU SO.  His supporters may try and lend him a hand.

Omg some are not even real military.  They’re mercenaries in unmarked uniforms.  Trump’s thugs.

The protest in Philadelphia, expected to draw thousands, is blocks from my house.  I have faith it will be peaceful.  If I weren’t *cough* a senior and terrified of coronavirus, I’d be marching.

Again, I think the protestors intend to be peaceful in Washington, DC.  It’s Trump’s pals who have me scared.

Okay, let me follow my own advice and live one minute at a time and not worry about something I can’t control.

In lighter news...

I got this text yesterday, which is today’s photo.

IT’S FROM MY HAIR STYLIST.

Thank fucking God.

Haha, too cool, my hair guy is young and hip, his clients are young and hip, but look who got his first appointment?

That’s right, people.  This old broad.  I still got it.

I don’t even know what “it” is.

I used to be with ‘it’ but then they changed what “it” was.  Now what I’m with isn’t ”it” anymore and what’s “it” seems weird and scary.  It’ll happen to you!

Haha, that’s a classic Grandpa Simpson quote.  It’s one of my favorites along with “Going cold turkey isn’t as delicious as it sounds.”

So with the protest so close to home, our plan to venture out shopping  today was thwarted and I now have a wait and see attitude about the beach Sunday.  My big fear is coming home exhausted with the dog in the car and having the streets blocked off like last week and it would be a nightmare trying to reach our house.  The gridlock that occurs here normally is breathtaking.

I’m so nutz I would drive down at 5:00 a.m. and head home by noon but there’s no way in hell I could get Gary out of bed that early so that’s not an option.

Sigh...

Oh well.  I thought it was supposed to be rainy, I just learned it’s not, so if you’re looking for me, I will be out in my garden cleaning up one final corner and plotting out what and  where we are planting and putting the new chairs and table I was hoping to buy today.

There’s those goals again.

Also, try not to die of jealousy but Gary is making macaroni and cheese and cornbread from scratch for dinner tonight.

I’m going to be dreaming about it all day.

I told you goals  are everything.

Maybe I will paint some rocks today and make them political.

I’ll start with a pussy behind a fence.

Hey, it’s the apocalypse garden!

Peace out and stay safe today, fellow apocalypse dudes.

You matter.