So here we are at the end of week six of this, at least at my latitude and longitude. How are you guys holding up? I’m alright some of time. And some of the time I look at the dirty dishes on the counter and wonder what kind of noise they’d make if I just hurled them up against the wall, one after the other.
So here we are waking up on a Wednesday morning to a new normal.
My kid’s school is shut down for four weeks. My church is podcasting services. My dojang is holding classes on zoom.
I’m working from home now too. That’s better, I think. The forced distance of 6 feet was awkward — walking into a friend’s work space to chat over a project and then realizing where you’re standing and taking two steps back — it’s disorientingly weird.
I turned 39 on Sunday. The first present I got that day was a stomach flu. What do you get the girl who has everything, right?
My kid very sweetly wanted to make me scrambled eggs for breakfast, which I had to decline. My parents brought me a picnic lunch, which I promptly threw up, and my husband bought me a cake that I couldn't even look at.
For anyone who doesn't know me in the real world, when I am uninterested in cake, something has gone very wrong indeed.
Happy Stars Wars Day, folks. I've been ultra busy lately, but nothing but the most important intergalactic business could keep from wishing you a happy May the Fourth. So here's a vaguely Star Wars-ish post for you.
Jesus, when did it become February? (And don't say 'Monday'; I know you know what I mean.)
"We're pretty good team," is what goes through my head. Weird thought to occur at 2 a.m. while you and your husband are managing a vomiting child, but perhaps every thought is weird at 2 a.m.
I hadn't been sleeping well that night. Neither of us had, I think, though there were no obvious outward signs of trouble brewing in the next room. I got up to use the bathroom and came back to find the light on in the kiddo's room. I altered course and found my husband speaking soothing words and holding a bowl for a puking child.
Rarely a dull moment around here.
Alright, I have pinkeye. Go ahead and lay out all your zombie jokes a la South Park. Shawn and I have been doing it all morning. He’s got it too so at least I’m in good company. Good, puffy, gooey company.
I’m sick. It’s one of those colds that’s wiped me out so badly that I can’t conceive of knitting anything but stockinette in the round and no matter how much I’d like to watch DS9, crossing the room to get to my DVDs is just too much work. It’s also one of those colds that gives you pause to contemplate the human body, its various fluids, and how gross we really are. Objectively speaking. I’m talking earthworm-gross.
I’m sick, so that’s me on the couch with kleenex and a stack of comic books. All things being equal I’d rather be well and at work, but some quiet time in the house doesn’t suck either. And being sick, I feel justified in ignoring all the household messes that I might otherwise have felt guilty about not cleaning. Now I can curl up with a cup of tea and watch Ripley massacre a nest of Aliens with a blow torch in peace.