Dear Diary: Quarantine Edition Part 6

Day XXVII:

For those keeping score at home, I had a very nice volleyball hit today. The girls were impressed. I followed that up by tripping over my own feet, so homeostasis was quickly reestablished.

I finished the internet this evening so I guess it’s time to watch the Tiger King. I hear that Carol Baskin is a lot like my inner control freak.

Jeff came home from work crabby. I went for a walk and when I got back, he was super cheerful and there were three empty beer bottles on the table. Coincidence? I think not.

Simon says “Wash your hands.” Simon say “Stay home.”

29 – The Number of Days We’ve Been Social Distancing

20 – the number of unnecessary holes Jeff put in the wall this morning trying to find a stud to secure a bookshelf

8 – the number of times I suggested he try another method

4 – the number of lewd comments he made in response to my helpful suggestions

6 – the number of stud finders I’ve given him in the last 20 years

0 – the number of locatable stud finders in our home

20 – the minimum number of days until a professional can come fix the mess we (he) made

Stay home, wash your hands, and wait for the professionals.

10+10+10+1 Days at Home

31 days of doing all the things from home and I might finally be adjusting. I can even almost ignore the the pile of random crap that is forever on the kitchen table now.

QPS has provided amazing materials and support for the girls’ distance learning so we have a routine which has made it easier to work from home without all the yelling and swearing and weeping.

I finished deep cleaning and reorganizing the kids’ rooms this weekend so now we live in the other half of the house and their rooms are cordoned off like Graceland. OTHERWISE THEY WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING.

I’m sorry, that was my inner control freak talking. I worry she might be here for good. Jeff is also concerned. (As well he should be; I suspect the table pile may be his doing.)

If you’re happy and you know it, wash your hands.

Stay-at-Home Day 33:

I’m starting to get anxious about things heading back toward normal. Partly because we’ve finally gotten into a routine with work and school. But also because I only wear leggings now.

Jeff has naturally wavy hair. I know this because it’s nearly to his shoulders. I’m going to offer to braid it for him before he goes to work in the morning.

In related news, I waxed my own eyebrows today. If you see me on Zoom wearing sunglasses or a paper bag over my face, don’t ask questions.

Stay 🏠🧼 your 🖐 🖐.

Day 34:

Last night, to celebrate our 34th day at home, I ordered everything on my Amazon Wishlist. I figure with the delayed shipping times, this will give me something to look forward to for weeks to come. I’m sure Jeff just wants me to be happy and wouldn’t allow silly things like “the budget” or “overdrawn checking account” to get in the way of that.

I came upstairs after my shower to the smell of cake, assuming the girls had concocted some kind of cosmetic/slime mixture and exploded it all over the house again. But this time, IT WAS ACTUALLY CAKE. Jeff’s boredom has peaked so he started baking. This is how I know he loves me and probably most likely won’t be mad at alllll the Amazon deliveries.

Stay home, wash your hands, and be sure to click “add to cart.”

Social Distancing Days 35-37:

I tried to order blackberries in my last grocery order but they were sold out so I bought two blackberry bushes instead. Because those were in stock. As I’ve never grown my own food before, I will obviously need to order several books on the subject to prepare. Jeff disagrees. He thinks I should just look on the internet for free guidance but that’s ridiculous when there are literally millions of books I can order and pay for with money. Sheesh.

While I’ve been preparing for my future as a gatherer, Jeff has been smoking a butt. This is not as kinky as it sounded when he first told me his plans for the weekend. But it is very involved. He’s been walking around with a meat thermometer and a furrow in his brow, muttering about dry rubs and fat caps for hours. I keep offering to order him books about smoking meats but I don’t think he’s amused.

Smoke ’em if you got ’em. Also, wash ’em.

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