Remember when you were little and the anticipation of events would suck up all your attention and you thought you’d burst before the happening?

Me, this year, Christmas, dying.

I hope our family makes it to our shared time together. It’s ironic, since we’re more together than we have been, ever, but we’re not any of us handling these circumstances well and I feel like if we can make it to when Bubba gets here and there are latkes and I hand those girls a present like my mother did me … Gawd I miss my mother… If we can just wake up to pancakes and stockings, we can, for one whole day, maybe find our normal. It would only last a day. A day that is always some version of the same day and is unarguably delightful.

People with better mental health probably think, “That’s nice, she’s looking forward to Christmas.” It’s more akin to, “She is terrified all the time.” My anxiety is multiplied. In the last week I have damn near convinced myself that I will slip on the ice, bust my head open and bleed out, or maybe fall in the bath. Or maybe accidentally impale myself on the scissors I keep seeing Office Administrator walking around with or waving. Maybe I’ll be abducted while putting groceries in my trunk. Or I’ll die in a fiery auto crash caused by some asshole in a big truck.

Or her inexperience

Oh, yeah, and there’s a fucking plague and some people say you can get it twice. I’m irrational, yes, but it’s not like these things don’t happen. I don’t want to be panic-stricken, but that happens, too.

And let’s be clear, I’m not afraid of dying. Not really. Not the actual dying bit. Though it has occurred to me, I’ll be right disappointed at being unable to write about the experience afterward.

I’m afraid I will die and miss the joy. I want the joy. I need the joy. I am joy deprived.

I may write about joy. An expository essay.

My boss picked me up a little special somethin last week. She said she knew it was for me, cause door. That was joy.

There are plenty of big blessings and small pleasures in my life, for which I am grateful. Unfortunately, many of them teeter on bittersweet due to the current state of the world.

For years our children have gathered on the big bed at night for attention and affection. Because of all this *gestures at everything* their talk has seldom been high school drama, but skewed toward loss, which is abundant. They’re the bearers of bad news, and they bear it. Honestly, it’s too much. My heart breaks for them, and for their inner circle of friends – parents losing parents, losing jobs, who’s sick, who’s grieving… Their sense of freedom and fun is replaced by burden, which provides me with deep, heavy worry. We still laugh a lot, but we don’t laugh as often, and when we do, the aftertaste of bitter reality lingers.

cletus does not care what the bedtime chats are about

I have no model on how to parent my daughters through a pandemic. Even my mother’s mother was born after the last one.

I miss my mother now like I’ve never missed her. Weepy, lump-in-my-throat miss her. I haven’t completely sorted this out. For a while I thought it was because the moon was in Cancer and I was all up in my feels, but now I think it may be how so much of the holidays are our mothers — It came upon me while I decorated the tree — many of my ornaments are hers, from ‘home’. It comes upon me while I curl the ribbon, like her. There are poinsettias and cheeseballs and holiday cards — all of this is her. In an instant, I become acutely aware that these feelings are as intense as those I feel after losing my father, except my mother is alive and a thousand miles away. I didn’t get to see her this year. I don’t know when I’ll see her. I don’t know that I will see her. And by then, what will be changed? Terrifying.


It’s hard to bring love and light and hope and humor to a blog when I feel this way, hm? I told you, I’m not myself.

The atmosphere is thick with ick. It’s so icky right now that random, previously insignificant things provide relief or hope. Like, I saw a BABY the other day and I thought holy crap, I don’t know when I last saw a baby! Life does go on! I’m not even a baby person, okay?

We finally hosted Bubba and Simon and Kiki and her husband for smoked meat and cocktails. It was wonderful. A great time was had by all, laughter ruled, there were no leftovers, and best of all, no one fell ill in the weeks after.

Three of us had birthdays. They did not entirely suck, but they were. not. party-ish, which is sad when one is 17.

I blind-baked some cookies for a woman with dementia, her own recipe. Her family hoped it would provide a happy memory. My wheelhouse. The woman did indeed find a happy memory. She loved the cookies and thought she had baked them herself and doesn’t that make you feel all gooey inside?

Also, when Moo bakes cookies, she puts mine in baggies to take to work.

I began my cookie baking festivities, complete with the Christmas music.

I think the lemon curd is my favorite.

I do not like newfangled Christmas music. I like old school, mostly before my time Christmas music. If it didn’t first release on vinyl with winter art, Bonus! a pop up scene inside the album! I likely shout a trail of obscenities at it as I skip it. Just sayin.

Oh, I cannot wait. Just one more day of work and then four days of Yuletide Joy!

Bubba’s smokin a brisket, y’all!

I don’t know when I’ll write again. Between the blocks and the photo upload and the number of times I had to close the page and go in again, I could scream. What’s with the delays?

In the meantime, Happy Holidays and Many Twinkly Lights to you!

Posted in Personally | 74 Comments

Halloween Hello

First things first, I still hate the block editor and instead I’m coming from edits in my dashboard to avoid it. I forget which clever blogger wrote that option, but thank you. I don’t know how long this will be an option, but I tried the plug in method and WP told me I have to upgrade to a business plan to access plug ins. On an emotional level, I find our WP community priceless, and on a practical level, I truly believe $99 a year for pleasing visuals is enough of an investment for me and my lil blog.

It’s nice when y’all write that you miss me. I miss y’all, too. I’m introverting so hard over here. Stuck in weariness thick as molasses, practicing avoidance — good times. 

Good times are had. They seem few and fleeting. We celebrated Sassy’s 18th birthday with a handful of people in an upscale joint where I drank overpriced but delicious cocktails made of “New Amsterdam Grapefruit vodka, Combier Pamplemousse Rose Liqueur, Aperol, pineapple, lemon and fresh beet juice.” Evidence of the cocktail of our celebration:

It was a milestone night, as along with Sassy’s age of majority, I happily embraced my older woman tendencies by wearing an obnoxiously colorful and shiny jacket recently acquired from the closet of an octogenarian. And I got FOUR compliments on it, so I am thoroughly looking forward to rocking bedazzled track suits and rhinestone eyeglass frames the size of my head.

We’ve had a long, primarily warm fall, and no snow all of October, and the next week shows some highs in the 60s and 70s. Wild. 

Moo goes to school one day a week for things that must be done physically. I drop her in the morning and The Mister drives her three more times before the day is done. He is working from home and is expected to until at least midsummer 2021. Sassy is 100% virtual and lamenting the fact that she chose not to graduate early due to her lack of a crystal ball when designing her 2019-2020 school year.

I go to work like normal. For several months the city paved the street (six-lane thoroughfare) in front of our office and honestly, as annoying and inconvenient as it was, it was impressive they accomplished such a massive project in such a short time and it sure drives smooth now. 

I took a four-day to enjoy all the leafeses. Sassy and I went to the apple orchard for lunch, shopping, and goat-watching. It was a pleasant outing, but it was a far cry from how it usually is. Safety first and all that. 

Sometime in the four-day I took, we went to Falls of the Ohio. I hadn’t even known it was a thing, but y’all, it is an awesome thing! There’s a tiny museum with exhibits I swear usta be in the Children’s Museum and they have a Chihuly!

We walked around for hours looking at the Devonian fossil bed. Moo, ever intrepid, did her very best to get as far out into the water as she could. It was a beautiful, perfect fall day and we had a wonderful time!

I’ve worn all my new sweaters from the last post. Not worn the new jacket yet. The eye shadow palette was Elf Nude Rose Gold and it turns out only three of the shades work well for me, so inevitably I bought my third L’Oreal Paradise Enchanted palette, because I wear seven of those shades well. Although, not all at once.

I can’t remember if I told you, but Bubba bought a smoker this summer, and he keeps it at our house because that’s a no-no at his apartment. Poor us, forced to endure smoked meats whenever the smoky mood strikes him. One time this fall, he smoked a turkey breast, I made fries and mac n cheese and peas and gravy. That was a damn good day.

Last time Bubba came, he didn’t smoke any meat, but he did bring my nephew Simon with him and if you don’t know, my nephew Simon is one of my absolutely favorite people on the whole planet. I love that kid. I made pasta e fagioli and we played board games and discussed the merits of belonging to too many cats and correctly purchasing top loading washers with knobs. Man, I love that kid. 
Next time, Bubba’s supposed to bring Simon and even more young people I adore. There will be smoked meat. There will be cocktails. There will be laughter. Something to look forward to is kinda where I live.

Also, while in recent years I claimed I was too busy to write the scary story, this year I welcomed the distraction and I did write a creepy murrrderrr for 13storiestilhalloween.com again this year. 

I voted. Sassy voted for the first time ever. Lines are hellalong and worth it.

Moo carved a jack o’lantern tonight — and with that, I bid you all a Happy. A happy. A happy whatever will make you happy. 


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Mail Fail

I’m one of those people who uses the USPS. Do I use it as much as I did prior to the internet? No. Y’all, before I got married, I didn’t even own a television. I spent a lot of time writing letters. Imagine my blog, handwritten, arriving to your mailbox. That’s what it was like. If you’ve ever gotten mail from me, it’s been mailed with a stamp I thought you’d enjoy, decorated with at least one sticker, maybe even some drawing. Letter writing. It’s a thing. Happy mail. We gots to have it.

It just so happens I have gobs of crazy liberal opinions about socialized services, but this isn’t the time for that.

No, it’s Tuesday and therefore time to complain about my petty grievances. LIKE THE FUCKING MAIL.

Two weekends ago, I online purchased five sweaters, a jacket, and an eyeshadow palette from Kohl’s. Oh, you have enough sweaters? Couldn’t be me. Oh, you’re not buying sweaters when it’s hot as blazes? If you don’t know, this is the best time to buy last year’s warm clothes, which will still be warm in six months. I got those five sweaters, a jacket, and an eyeshadow palette for $110.00, free shipping. I’m talkin off-season deep discount.

So, on August 22, I ordered those things and right now, as I type this, my bleedin buggery package is in Kahoka, Missouri. I don’t even know where that is, but that’s not the point. The point is, the package was in Kahoka four days ago and I don’t live there. It’s so far away, I don’t even know where it is.

Googling now. Damn near Iowa, that’s where. About 370 miles from Indy.

Since it’s hot, I don’t care about the sweaters, but I’m almost out of my eyeshadow. It’s unsettling.

On Monday, August 24, I went to Kohl’s with The Mister, to get his new sneakers. He and Sassy had already gone to one Kohl’s and they didn’t have his size so we went to other Kohl’s to get them. Yay him. While we were there, I saw my eyeshadow, but I didn’t buy it, because I thought my package would arrive before… well, before now. I thought about buying it anyway, even in tiny bungalow I can store an extra… but I didn’t.

Every time I log in to my Kohl’s account to see where my bleedin buggery package is, a flash of my $20 in Kohl’s Cash pops up on my screen. It expires this week. I LOL to it. I should use it, it’s ‘free’ money. However, I must also realize, at this rate, whatever I order may not arrive before Halloween. Or, I could drive to Kohl’s and use my Kohl’s cash to buy the eyeshadow. For pity’s sake, the problems I have.

Tell me your pathetic peeves, first-world problems only, please.

PS I hate this Block Bullshit

Posted in Uncategorized | 31 Comments

Oopsies, It’s August

Missed July. My best intentions may not have been good enough.

Back in January, I wrote, “Life can change in an instant. We seem to forget that now could be the moment before it changes. Those big memory markers in life, the ones that make you remember the date? They’re out there. You could wake up tomorrow and some shit could go down and then BLAMMO! Memory marker. These are the good ol days.” 


I liked January better than July, and not only because it was cold in January. My intake receptors are overloaded. I marvel at how other people are handling these “challenging, uncertain, unprecedented times” (gag me with a spoon, aight?)

I am not myself right now. I mean, of course I’m myself, I have no other choice, but I am enduring a multitude of existential crises and I’m not handling them well. I’ve read substantial commentary on how “whatever gets you through” is OKAY. My current OKAY seems to be avoidance of expression. Suppression. Super unhealthy. Really, it’s an avoidance of conflict. “I will not dance, even if the beat is funky.”

Pleasantries instead of real connection. My diet is heavy in frozen confections and pleasantries. I will look up from my bowl of orange sherbet to nod and smile.

Anxiety-ridden bitches like me are still riding the wave of “OH YOU THINK I’M AN ALARMIST?!?”

Earlier this summer, I was expressive, even yell-y, but I’ve since conserved my energy. I was more a poked bear and now I feel rather lemme-just-curl-up-under-my-hard-shell-as-I-must-protect-my-squishy bits. Please think of me when you see doodle bugs … or yellow wallpaper.

Before I fall right off my rocker, I will share with you a few of the pleasantries, small photographic markers of my gratitude.

My green space

My pets

Office Administrator bought lollies. I find a 4:00 lolly helpful.


One day I engaged in “risky behavior” and met Benson for lunch. We did not hug, neither hello or goodbye. We ate tacos.

They were so good, I then took The Mister there for our first date in four months. When we left, The Mister said, “That is the most normal I’ve felt in a long time.”

That’s where we are, trying to balance threat of spreading the plague with our deteriorating mental health. We’re still living, on a smaller, modified scale. The list of things we don’t do is long. As is the list of things we long to do.

I think it’s safe to say we all have at least one shared memory marker, and yet, these are still the good ol days. It’s all fucked up, but here we are. My gratitude lies in something is better than nothing.


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I have picked up my laptop twice in the last month. I ordered new flip flops, because what is summer without shiny new gold flip flops? Last weekend, I started to order new Fiesta bistro bowls, but a nap suddenly came upon me. Marigold, Turquoise, Scarlet, Ivory — now the cart is empty cause neglect.

I have neglected y’all similarly. Now, as a consequence, there are +1400 blog posts in my email. Err, umm… I have missed you, I promise. I forget not everyone sees me posting on Instagram or Twitter and then someone contacts me, like HEY!

I took vacation. The Mister took vacation. Sassy did not take vacation, instead, she started a second job. She’s her mother’s child when it comes to being busy. Moo has avoided taking a job and we’re okay with that, given the circumstances. Her resume lists more skills under volunteer experience than most kids have under work experience, so fair enough. Now and again, I pay her to file at my office.


moo can take breaks to zoom with classmates, or you know, twirl

At the onset of vacation, I announced my intention to move the baker’s rack to the dining room and to finish the back hallway. Now, I don’t know how long you’ve been reading me, but ‘the back hallway project’ has been a saga for YEARS. (I began in 2014.) It is done now. It’s September Sky blue. It no longer looks as though previous owners played handball or caged animals in the hall. No strange shadows. I am chuffed!

However, I had barely begun removing wall hangings when The Mister announced his intent to rearrange the living room. Yes, tis true. Twas his plan. He consulted with Moo, who has his spatial ability, but my appreciation for aesthetics. Once the plan was unanimously approved, it took a day and a half for our entire family to execute it, cause books and wires, man.


cletus the dog kitten is on the mend from a snot sick

Then we worked in the garden.

And planted another forsythia.

And stopped briefly to admire.

IMG-5105 (1)

the peonies bloomed late and hardly at all 

And we bought a new hose. And a hoe. And some more seeds.

And we bought a new lamp, which will be the subject of a post at a later date.

And we bought a power washer. So satisfying!

Then I painted the main bathroom. I don’t know why, but I thought painting that bathroom would be an endless, arduous task and it only took me about four hours. We took down the possibly haunted mirror covering the spider hotel — covered that mess and hung an old-to-me, new-to-bathroom mirror instead. It’s dramatically different and weeks later, I still smile every time I go in there.

Then I painted the pass-through and touched up the kitchen walls and some trim.

I read. I read something besides Agatha Christie. Of course, I also watched the entire Miss Marple series on streaming. Wouldn’t wanna overdo it. My inevitable metamorphosis into my mother continues. My daughters find Marple as incredibly dull as I did at their age, but I smile, knowing their metamorphosis is inevitable as well.

And, speaking of my mother, she sent me a new crochet lovey.


it smells like her

One afternoon it was so warm and sunny and breezy and my life was so unburdened, I had to sit outside and eat cucumber sandwiches.


the cucumbers were gifted to us

And then I went back to work, which, thank tacos, did not involve +1400 emails. And despite her concern that she would suffer in my absence, new receptionist managed. Her official title is Office Administrator, Ooh La La!

Having not been here in many months, the boy one has come to visit today. There’s a roast n fixins in my oven and we ate dessert first, so it’s a good day.

Lately, my ideal platform of communication might be yellin and swearin —  loud Italian hands sloshin drank all over the porch. But that takes more energy than restraint. I still live in gratitude, I just do it with more music and takeout dinners than I did a year ago.

How y’all livin? 

Posted in Uncategorized | 70 Comments

May Twenty-Three

I clicked in here and received notice of a new WordPress Editor coming in June. Why?



i languish, too, clara

I cannot elucidate anything. It’s likely you think and feel similar things. Being an introvert, I need substantial time to process — relative to input — and I don’t have that. I don’t know about y’all, but I wasn’t given a guidebook on how to cope during a pandemic. If I had one, I’d read it. It would be dog-eared and coffee-stained by now. I merely tune into my attitude of gratitude and plod on. Maybe I can write about it later.


wouldn’t mind to curl up in a hidey-hole, either, catticus

I find work is helpful. I like seeing those people every day. I like being productive. I like being distracted. I come home to my family and I enjoy that. I feel the stress, the fear, the horror, the uncertainty at times that seem insignificant. I suspect it’s when my mind quiets. Hence, ongoing distraction proves to be a healthy coping mechanism. All in favor, Say Aye!

I feel connected when my hands are in the dirt. Thoughts of being tiny me in the garden with my mother. Familiar smells, confident movement, always magical results. This year, volunteer celery.
Also, I missed my tulips. I wasn’t well for most of April and now they’re all gone.

5893F3F2-8956-489E-A77A-48571E838DEDIMG-49062505749B-69BF-4C8C-8050-DD71C2B974DF (1)


I enjoyed every bit of Saturday. The four of us worked in the yard. We were two weeks late, as the weather seemed also to be two weeks late. Because I was sick for so long, my garden is behind schedule and the weeds were well ahead of me. I went out there like a weeding tornado and quickly remembered I am not as young as I once was and although I frequently advise others to drink more water and to pace themselves, it took great self-discipline to drink more water and to pace myself.


It paid off. We were almost done when it started to rain. How perfect is that? We danced in the rain.



I finished Saturday with strawberry ice cream and Sauvignon Blanc. What a magnificent day.

The rest of the weekend was wonderful, just Saturday felt special. I cherish special.

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Couldn’t Complain. Wasn’t Tuesday.

Somethin is wrong with The Mister. He cleaned our gutters! and repaired our gutters! Then he pruned our apple trees!!! and cut up the fallen branches in the yard!!! He weed-whacked and mowed the grass. Did I ask him to do any of this? No. No, I did not. He just went and did all that.


sexy beast

And then, when he was in error about instructions he gave me, which I knew, because I have ears and all that, he said, “I STAND CORRECTED.”

New moon tonight.

Have I mentioned I hate working from home? Yeah, I do. I think my one boss is losing his mind without support staff. Like, I may go in tomorrow and find his brain, wearing glasses of course — his brain on I dunno, Mr Potato’s shoes, just hoppin around his desk, lookin for the right papers. If you’re a man who doesn’t need a woman around to find your things, I’m gonna need the woman in your life to sign an affidavit to that effect. You may be brilliant but can you find things?


we think not

The ache in my back seems to have fallen out during one of my Tuesday naps. Which is odd, because I thought today was Tuesday, when really I lost Tuesday, and today wasn’t Tuesday which you may or may not have known before this, but you should now know it’s Wednesday. Maybe you won’t read this until Thursday. I don’t wanna confuse you. I just really want my neck and shoulder aches to fall away too. They can’t fall out until my head stops being so heavy.

I lay my head on The Mister and he said, “Ow!” so I moved away and asked “What?!” and he said, “Your head is too heavy!” and I was like, “I know, I’m sorry,” and leaned back to my own side. But then he laughed and laughed cause he was kidding, cause it’s only heavy to meeeeeeee! Sad LOLZ.

Sometimes all we can do is LOL.
And sleep it off.


this is a Zzz cat, not a LOL cat 

Nigh Nigh.

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The Ache I Cannot Shake

It’s a month today since I fell ill. I still ache a lot from the waist up. Hot baths and Tylenol go a long way in reducing the suck that is the ache I cannot shake. I still need a lot of sleep. I’m working at work, (thank tacos) and working almost full-time now. I text my boss a bit ago, letting her know I want to continue working shorter days. Everyone in my little world is now recovering, recovered, or luckiest — asymptomatic. We wonder if now we’re immune, and more importantly, if we’re still infectious. Apparently it will be a long time until we can all have antibody testing and who knows how long until we know we can’t make other people sick?

For a change, I experience lower anxiety than the general public.


sadie lady

Some people aren’t convinced I had the plague which began to upset me, because, the only way I can explain it is to say I knew. I knew like I knew he was the one I would marry, like I knew I was pregnant, like I knew that was my dog, and this is my house. A knowing. A very woo-woo knowing. I had never felt like that. It hit different.

When the night came and coughing hurt and breathing burned and I was afraid to go to sleep for fear I wouldn’t make it through the night… When the worst had passed and I got winded making tea, or walking to the bathroom… When my temp stayed right around 100 for thirteen days… When I felt better and then worse, over and over…

Last Saturday, I wasn’t tired. I baked and cooked and had sex. And then Sunday I didn’t move from the bed. Monday I went to work for six hours and Tuesday I spent the day in bed. I’m pretty much at work or in bed.


banana bread

While Moo has accused me of doing too much too soon and I balk at her, she may be right. Maybe the right thing to do was to lie down for a month, but I can’t fathom it and no medical professional told me to.

I don’t have proof it’s the plague. (which i know is not a plague because it’s viral and not bacterial, but i’m not naming the bastard — like a demon, like the orange-faced fucktard)
However, despite my lack of proof, you should prolly tuck my story into the notes section of your brain and remember it in case you find yourself in a similar position. Sick without proof. You might be as lucky as I. Cause I sure am lucky.


clara belle

The scary part is not knowing how sick you’ll get. That’s scary. We’re talking about something that spans anywhere from you could already have it and not even feel unwell, to something that can give you one to nine symptoms for an unknown amount of time, send you to the hospital, or take your life. The spectrum is terrifying.

We don’t wear masks around one another at home, in our office, to drive, to walk the dog, or to sit on our patio, but we do when we will be around others. I own a lot of scarves.

E867AE5A-C95F-4AE3-8381-C5A632E50534 (1)

people love this photo, cause filtered af

If I have to open a door to UPS or visit the post office, I pull my scarf up and give people distance. To do so is good manners. Good manners, lest we forget, are to make other people feel more comfortable. Good manners absolutely require giving a fuck and yet, do not include yelling at other people about it.

People who do not give a fuck should perhaps take this time to gather together and enjoy recently opened beaches.

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#ThursdayDoors — Spring in Dystopia


See also, me.

Dunno what day of sick this is. I’m not good at math. I am in the third week. I woke up Wednesday without aching from the waist down. My neck, shoulders, and back still ache. This is because my head is enormously heavy and my neck is barely visible under a microscope, or my head is a fishbowl and my spine is a bendy straw. This is good because it makes me lie down a lot. This is good because I easily plumb tucker out. My lung capacity is much improved and I seldom cough. My sickness boomerangs and I am lucky. This week better than last, by far.

Wednesday gave us beautiful weather.

I was able to work at home an entire day. As I have given up trying to work from that brutal chair, my cats now enjoy my desk.


In the evening Sadie and I took a walk up the street to the fallow field. I put on sandals and a cardigan with my pajamas because I am nothing if not an icon of domestic fashion.


It was just gorgeous out there. All sunshine and fresh air and birdsong.

At home, the tulips are opening.


Spring feels like hope, doesn’t it? Normally I’d be out in that yard, cleaning up, getting ready.

Y’all, this is Indiana. Later that night, the rain and hail came down and the wind blew and the tornado sirens sounded. Because The Mister is a man who stands on the porch to posture at tornadoes, he doesn’t know the difference between a watch and a warning, and so the girls and I climbed into the linen closet for a spell.


Something like 60,000 people were without power overnight, and I think some still are. Trees down. Lots of damage. Our patio furniture tangoed with the gate and we are lucky. And now we run the heat again.

When choosing a door today, I thought about this abandoned beach construction from Florida last year. I encourage you to draw your own conclusions and write your own metaphors.


#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link.


Posted in Personally, Random Musings | Tagged , | 57 Comments

Day Whatever of Whatever

Everything seems to start that way.

Day THIRTEEN, I am still not well. I continue to recover. Notable improvement continues. My head is heavy, I ache, I get winded easily, and I am tired. I had a few better days this week, followed by a substantially worse day, then back to feeling better again.

You maybe don’t know me or don’t read me for seven years, but I get sick often. I also bounce back quickly, so this sick is absurd.

I spent most of the week in bed, continuing to tea and sleep. I’ve worked from home hours each day this week. Typing, phoning, clicking. I can’t work a whole day. Yet. Certainly couldn’t go to work today. Would need a nap before I got to my shoes.

Indiana’s governor has determined our workplace is essential. While my boss has graciously permitted us to work from home, I was too sick to work at all the first week, and managed about 20 hours this week — the other 20 was napping. I’m limited by what I can access from home. It would be much easier to work AT work. Not to mention my office chair is suitable for long days, whereas sitting hours in my home chair is a suitable punishment for anyone over the age of forty. At home, I don’t have to wear a bra or shoes, my hair can be boingy wild, and the phone doesn’t much ring. However, at work, I have everything I need to do all duties of my job. Working at home is frustrating.

I’m not inclined to discuss the health details of those I work with, but I’ll just write that it’s not good. Our office hasn’t been open during the bulk of our operating hours, because staff is not well enough to maintain it. Some of our staff have been to hospital where they were admitted and treated, presumptive, but not tested, or tested with pending results. That is how I know all the numbers everywhere are lies. Minimums. To one colleague who called the hotline, I said, “I should have called, too,” to which she replied, “They would’ve quaratined you and told you to fuck off and die at home,” and I said, “Oh mmhm.”

My doctor’s office told me to stay home until I am three days symptom free.

Operating under the presumption that we are plagued humans in a contaminated office, can any more harm be done? Only if our presumptions are wrong. See how it’s impossible to make informed decisions as there is no actual information? These are real problems.

The other people in my house are still fine, despite them climbing into my lap, sharing my bed, or my having lavished cootie kisses upon them. I am so glad and not jealous of them at all.

I will now share the highlights of my week:

The Mister brought me tulips.


The sun came out.


The daffodils are blooming.


We went outside and sat.


It was nice. Five stars, would recommend. If the sun ever shines again, I will do this again.

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