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. 

Day 92

Day 92, self quarantine:

Good morning!

How about this weather?  It’s so unbelievably gorgeous I’ve been accompanying Jake on all of his walks and now he actually thinks I’m doing this as a rule and he bugged me all day.

It’s awesome.  You can teach an old  dog new tricks.

Just ask Gary. 

😂😂😂

So we had our Indian food feast last night and it was good!  I had a spinach and potato dish in a spicy tomato curry that had me making all kinds of noise.

Gary had chicken with fresh grated coconut, ginger and chills. You should have heard him.

And the samosas.  I’m embarrassed to tell you how many we ate.  I tried to order enough food so we’d have leftovers for dinner tomorrow.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

So yeah, it’s nice being good to yourself.

In other news, we are in fact going to Lowes today.  I’m more than a little nervous, I wish I had a hazmat suit, but Gary actually said this to me yesterday:

“We should go to Lowe’s tomorrow to see what they have.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

“What do you mean?”

You have no idea how many things we need at Lowes.

I hate that fucking store but whatever.

Meaning, I loathe giant corporate big box stores.  I like small shops and personalized friendly service.

Yeah, I know, get real, Rob, this is 2020, not 1970.

But seriously, unless you know exactly what you want, places like Lowes are exhausting.

“I want to look at a new back door,” Gary said.

Wait, wut? Wut?  WHAT?

You have no idea.  He’s talking about the sliding glass door leading from the living room to the back yard.

I’ve been trying to get that door replaced for, oh, probably the last twenty years.

Magnificent french doors would change the look of this entire house.

Gary just wants to replace the glass in the center panel of our forty- five year old bent and rusted plain sliding glass door.

It’s an argument I chose not to have in light of how many other things around here need fixing and I hide the decrepit door with drapes.

I also shut out the sunlight when I did that  which is a major bummer.

I’m a depressed person usually.  Depressed people need sun!

Anyway, the crappy door with the bad glass you can no longer see through wasn’t an issue when we had a junk filled yard we didn’t want to acknowledge existed but now, not so much.

I’m so excited right now I can barely contain myself.  I didn’t know a new door was on the table.

“We should look at some patio furniture, too,” Gary added.

Okay, now he’s getting silly.

I’ve already given up the dream of outdoor furniture from CB2.  The catalogue came last week and I sat here with my heart in my mouth while Gary flipped through it and made fun of the high prices.

Why was my heart in my mouth?

Because I bought our six dining room chairs from CB2 in November and I was worried he’d see what I paid for them.

Anyhoo, yeah, there’s no way Gary is going to go for a $2500 lounge chair from CB2.  The trick will be to lead him away from $19 resin chairs from Target to something more moderate.

Curious, I checked Lowes and they actually have some decent stuff in the range I’m thinking.  But I am wondering how this works during a pandemic - do we get to sit in a chair and try it out before buying?

I’ll let you know.

Gary told me to make a list for Lowes.  Hahaha, I made two lists.  One with everything we need and a version which won’t give him a heart attack.

I’ll see how that goes once we get there.

So here’s the plan.  I take him to “Doors” first.  Then “Patio furniture.”  If we’re still talking, I will spoon feed him the rest, one item at a time.

No worries, I always prevail.

But it would be nice to do it without a Lucille Ball type scheme.

We’re getting there, people.  I can’t even believe it.  

Dreams can come true, it can happen to you, if you’re young at heart 😎

Have an awesome Sunday, apocalypse dudes.

Day 91

Day 91, self quarantine:

Yesterday was awesome.

It was kind of a mental health day.  I had very little to do home office wise and the weather was spectacular.  Gary and I tackled the final corner of our yard, which was gross beyond belief and somehow yielded 24 more trash bags.

I’m kinda in shock about that, actually.

Sigh...it’s the corner where Gary barbecues.

I dug up silverware I’ve been missing for fifteen years.

“You took our good forks out here? Why?  Why would you do that?”

“You’re asking me about something that happened in 2005?” Gary laughed.  “You should be excited!  This goes along with your theory you’re rewarded every time you clean!”

Grrr.

So any shopping trips I had in mind for this weekend for the garden  are postponed until after trash day on Wednesday.

Holy hell, I can’t believe the most important day of the week for me during the pandemic is the day they pick up my garbage.  It’s like my new weekly national holiday.

Actually, watching the news as I write this, maybe I shouldn’t be leaving the house yet, anyway.  The virus is everywhere.

Also as I write this, I just spilled the bottle containing 60 blood pressure medication pills all over the floor.

That can’t be good.

For my blood pressure, I mean.  Now I have to count them in case I missed one in the floor and Jake finds it.

Good times.

Oy, I haven’t even watched Top Chef yet.

It’s the second to the last episode.  Stephanie or Kevin better be gone or I’m not watching the finale next week.

I’m team Melissa all the way.  If she goes, ugh, I have no choice but to cheer on Bryan Voltaggio, the guy with the sexiest laugh in America.

Okay, I find him sexy as fuck for a young guy, but ew, he’s a young guy.

No offense, young guys,  but if you weren’t around when the Beatles were, we have nothing in common 😎

But because it’s Saturday and we can all use some eye candy, here’s a pic of Bryan for those who like men and here’s Padma, Top Chef judge and hostess for those who like the ladies.

God, if you exist, though I‘m pretty sure you don’t because TRUMP and his hideous supporters,  but in case you do and you’re listening, and if there’s such a thing as reincarnation, can I come back as Padma Lakshmi?

Thanks, God.

Hot damn she’s gorgeous and brilliant.  She’s a fucking Queen.

I know, I know, so am I.

And so are you.

We are all Padma Lakshmi.

I’m gonna get a t-shirt made.

Okay, okay, time to actually watch the show.  I hope I just didn’t doom Bryan by posting his pic but I do not see that happening.  They’ve set him up as a finalist the entire series.

But as I’ve also said, I’m wrong every year.

We shall see.

Go forth and rule the world today, fellow apocalypse dudes.

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 😎