Time out, buddy ol’ pal March 27, 2020

March Ihavenoidea, 2020

Dear Diary:
I believe I have reached a new low, as even my dogs annoy me today. Apparently there is something about Thursdays in a pandemic home isolation. Who knew? I didn’t even know it was Thursday.

Usually, every little wiggle or snuggle or tail wag from my two dogs makes me happy. Their unconditional love and ability to like me no matter how long it’s been since I took a shower is a welcome part of my day. But not today, Dear Diary, not today. Everything they say annoys me today.

I’m trying to save the day with take-out Thai food, in both an effort to support my local small business and a strategy to not have to wash one more damn pan. But even that feels perilous. This virus is the invisible enemy, floating around in my imagination and clinging to every surface. I’ve only left the house once in the past five days and I was afraid of everyone I saw. How does that Dixieline guy think it’s ok to touch the box that my lightbulb is housed in? The unmitigated gall of his actions. I am just beside myself. Where are his gloves, Diary?

Every night is movie night around here right now. Our nightly ritual to block out the world and enter some other reality. But since even the dogs’ conversations are driving me nuts, I am clearly not sure I should spend anytime in the same room with the whole beloved family unit.

What is this madness, swinging from the deep delight of my precious loved ones to full blown misophonia (bored? look that one up)? I know. I know. I’m the one that forgot to take a shower for two days. I’m the one wearing the same yoga pants every day. It’s not you. It’s me.

Alas, I think this might mean another time out for me.

Sniffing for rabbits March 22, 2020

March 21, 2020

Day 6 of Quarantine

 

Dear Diary:

I have just finished vacuuming the house. I have decided that the therapeutic value of vacuuming up dust, dog hair, lead paint chips, unidentifiable objects, and other such sundries outweighs the futility of vacuuming during a bathroom remodel. Indeed, while dear father-in-law questioned my sanity, I vacuumed blissfully along, unfazed by his incredulous grin.

 

Our unified family has realized that there is no need to quarrel over which movie to watch, as I have calculated we have the time to watch approximately 8000 movies during our home isolation. So last night, all were in agreement. It will be Open Range. Anything that reminds us of what it was like to roam free is appropriate at this point. No matter that the free ranging cattle of this particular experience caused “the best gun battle ever” (dear husband) and many folks died. Kevin Costner and Robert Duvall lived on, so that is all that really matters. I do believe we may be on a Kevin Costner run here. That will make tonight’s selection much easier.

 

Dear husband has dear father-in-law working today, despite it being a Saturday, because who the hell knows what day of the week it is anyway? I have decided that three days really is too long to not shower, so today my primary achievement shall be personal hygiene. I still plan to skip the makeup and curling iron, as there are no Zoom meetings with work colleagues today and the rest of you are just going to have to deal.

 

So after the shower, the youngsters and I (Brooke and Brady) will take the dogs to the park. This will involve a nice walk through the clean spring air with a destination that, to our dogs, is akin to Disneyland for children. There they will run free, sniffing for rabbits, chasing bees, ignoring my calls to return, and just generally being the dogs that they are. I kind of wish I was a dog today. Oblivious to the reality and just happy that my people are now always around and always ready to snuggle. It’s a dog life, I tell you. It appears the rest of us are screwed. I just may sniff for rabbits and chase a fee bees. That saying “It’s for the dogs” really means a lot to me right now.

Silver linings

March 19, 2020

 

Dear Diary:

Yesterday passed in an apocalyptic blur. I don’t think it was the double vodka gimlet because I waited until the appropriate cocktail hour to imbibe. I realize I do not usually have a cocktail on a Wednesday night, but these are extraordinary times, Diary.

 

Evening time found both Son #1 and Daughter #1 gathered in our cozy, cluttered home with their precious partners, our dear Daughter-in-love and Brooke’s love, Brady, who I have officially adopted. Food was shared, memes passed around, who got to hold the puppy caused a bit of tension, the expected fart jokes by Son #1 were shared, and the night ended with a screening of Dances with Wolves – memories of times long past when getting scalped was a bad day. I woke up today to find the first story on my news feed about an entire family who contracted the virus, two are dead and three are in the hospital – all for sharing a family meal. This, Dear Diary, is more than I can handle right now.

 

I think a scented candle will help. That four feet of sewer pipe dug out by hand by dear husband is still sitting on the front porch, the rain has made mud under the house and the bathroom where dear husband and dear father-in-law are spending long hours is muddy because there actually is no bathroom right now – just four walls and the mud under the house. I asked dear husband to prepare me for just how many days I will find myself in this predicament – the mud and dust and power tools and plumbing fixtures — he did not answer, as I recall.

 

Slight silver lining on the grey clouds above — Son #1 discovered last night that the local liquor store will deliver toilet paper. It didn’t even phase me that I paid $35 for three cans of Classic Coke, 12 rolls of toilet paper and some kind of beer that my son needed to be able to face another day. No matter. We have enough TP now to make it through the weekend. Life is good. It’s important to keep perspective.

 

Today I will leave the house for a walk. I have not seen the outside of this hovel in two days. I imagine that the cool air might help. I hope it does, because otherwise I am definitely going to ask Jesus into my heart again tonight.

In my rabbit hole

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

 

Dear Diary:

 

Today was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. In all the ways. It’s Day 2 of the Covid-19 Quarantine and Day 2 of working remotely. Yesterday my bathroom was ripped out, toilet smashed, bathtub sledge-hammered, cabinets crushed, mirrors cracked. The floor is rotten, and they tell me that I should have fallen through the floor the last time I sat on the toilet to poop.

 

My husband Chris is doing the remodel, with my father in law, Tony. I am really grateful they are doing this bathroom remodel, as I have been pining for it for about 20,000 years. Or maybe just 20. But shit is everywhere. All the stuff from the cupboards is on the dining room table, dust covers everything, tile and supplies, power tools and measuring tapes — it’s all strewn around.

 

They didn’t get the memo that I simply cannot deal with clutter and mess. The memo got lost in the mail with my sanity. It got lost in the mail with my self-confidence and my purpose. It’s just all shit-show, all the time around here. But I am not complaining, How can I? I’ve been begging for this bathroom remodel for 20,000 years.

 

Daughter Number 1 moved home yesterday, too. With the world ending, her dorm evacuated and she brought her car full of dirty clothes, rugs, chairs, books, posters, bottles, coffee mugs, plastic dishes I have nowhere to put and all of her burgeoning independence. It all got moved out of the car and partially dumped in her bedroom. Partially, because somewhere in this equation was the idea that it made sense to empty the belongings of her closet into the hallway by the front entrance to the house. This decision was prompted by the stack of clothes that cover the floor that made the dresser no longer fit in the room that made the dresser need to be moved into the closet that made the shit in the closet need to be moved into the hallway by the front door. Don’t get me wrong, diary, I am really glad she is home. I really just want all my people around right now, but with all my people around I think I just might lose it. But if you give a Pig a Pancake you and I both know what happens.

 

So, given that D#1 is, herself, in a bit of a precarious situation I am mindful, Dear Diary, of my need to be extra understanding, patient, kind and oblivious to the shit that sits everywhere around me. Did I mention that there is now another coffee maker, 17 coffee mugs, 13 plastic plates, two bags of Chia seeds and “there is NO WHERE to put my stuff, Mom”. I know. I know. Just put it in the hallway.

 

What did you say? Your boyfriend’s shower is broken and his roommate brought his fiance home after she was kicked out by her own roommates on her return from the European warzone of Covid-19? Did you really just ask if he could sleep on your floor tonight, or perhaps pitch a tent in the backyard for the decade? Oh, no, I must have heard you wrong, sweet D#1. Yes, we do adore him. He is nicer than just about anyone else in this god-forsaken house right now. He can stay. At least to take a shower.

 

Let’s not even try to wrap our head, Dear Diary, around all that is work right now. Staff who can’t come back to the office to work; students who still need to work to pay their bills. A team of people who need you to be strong, and patient, and kind, and full of ideas for how to make this work. But all you want to do is crawl into a hole and wail. Because your purpose and your sanity got lost in the mail with the memo about keeping things tidy around here.

 

“Frustrated yet, dear one,” you ask, Dear Diary? I’ve got rope burns from pulling myself out of the rabbit hole 34 times today. I’m starting to kind of like the rabbit hole. I can’t hear the power saw from here, and my cell phone doesn’t work, and nobody can hear me wailing. It smells like dirt, but so does my house. You’ll find me here. Gnawing on a carrot.