Dear Diary: Quarantine Edition, Part 5

Quarantine Day 21:

ARRRRGH!

Quarantine Day 22:

Despite having more free time than I’ve ever even fantasized about, I haven’t felt the slightest bit of motivation to do household projects these last three weeks. But today, I buckled down and cleaned and reorganized the playroom. And by that, I mean, I threw out a bunch of crap and swore a lot. It felt surprisingly good actually. My inner control freak came out and showed that room who was boss. I didn’t have the kids help because they would have wanted to keep everything. And we don’t need all those empty Smarties wrappers and dismembered Barbie legs anymore. Also, my inner control freak is a total bitch and I didn’t want to subject them to that.

I did some math this evening and IF the decision is made that Illinois schools won’t reopen this academic year, as some states have, this would mean we would be at home with our kids full time for *twitch* 5 *twitch* months *twitch*. See, this is why I don’t do math. It makes me twitchy.

On the 22nd day of quarantine, my true love gave to me…NOTHING because we both washed our hands.

Quarantine Day 23:

The thing about my inner control freak is once you let her out, she’s like a genie; she doesn’t want to go back in that bottle. I spent the day continuing to clean and organize, much to the dismay of my three roommates who wanted to spend the day horizontally in front of the TV.

I still got quite a bit done but you know how one project leads to another and then another and another and then before you know it, your husband is taking away your power tools and telling you that you can’t rip up the living room carpet right now? To be fair, my drill was probably drowning out Iron Man. The second one, but don’t worry, he watched all three.

I was described as “unpleasant” by some members of my household today. Well, all of them. But not at the same time!

In related news, the wine bottle opener is broken. Send help. This is not a drill. THIS IS NOT FINE.

P.S. Wash your hands.

Quarantine Day 24:

The wheels came off today. After an accidental pencil stabbing, a dramatically lost tooth (“Mom! A piece of my gums fell out!!”), a cat scratch incident, 6-12 collective meltdowns and the loss of our few remaining privileges, I had had enough. I sent myself to my room and suggested the children do likewise.

None school work was completed and as principal of the Shields Institute of Tomfoolery and Shenanigans, I’ve declared this fine. Tomorrow is another day. And it will by default have to be better than today.

For now, we will focus on important self-care activities like playing outside, listening to music, mocking Jeff’s newly developed ear hair, stretching, hiding under the bed for hours at a time, or coloring. Also, how many bubble baths in one day is too many? Asking for a friend.

Lava tus manos.

Quarantine Day 25:

Today was way better if only because I was at work and Jeff was home with the gremlins. He told them he would give them a dime for every stick they picked up in the backyard so now he owes Laina $341 and Lucy a new Maserati.

This evening, Jeff used all those newly gathered sticks to build a fire so the kids could make s’mores. I’m sure it was great fun but kids and fire and hot metal pitch forks give me hives so I sat that one out. They made one for me and there was only a little grass in it so I guess we’ve all made up after our tough day yesterday.

JT is on Fallon so I have to go fall asleep as soon as I get into bed and miss the whole episode. G’night!

one two buckle your shoe, three four shut the door

five six pick up sticks, seven eight wash your hands

nine ten do it again

No Pants Day 26:

When I started writing these posts, I figured we’d be stuck in our homes hoarding toilet paper for two weeks max. I’d write approximately 6-12 posts about the experience from my perspective and then we’d all get back to our regular lives, talking about how crazy that whole social distancing thing was.

I had no earthly idea that 26 days and 52 press briefings later, we’d still be at home, with even more limitations, less toilet paper, a troubling peanut butter cup habit, and no end in sight. But here we are killing it.

Generally speaking, I can find something to laugh about. Even when it’s inappropriate to do so. Especially when it’s inappropriate to do so. But that’s been hard to do for the last few days and I’m sure I’m not alone in that.

It’s fine to be tired of the hermit life. It’s fine to be tired of takeout and online learning and talk show hosts doing their shows in their homes. It’s fine to be tired of hearing daily case and death counts. It’s fine to miss your family and friends so much it hurts. It’s fine to be scared and to be tired of being scared. It’s fine to be tired of balancing work and home while stuck at home in the time of COVID-19.

It’s fine that we are not fine.

But keep staying home and washing your hands so we can get back to fine soon.

 

 

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