Taking out the recycling before Coronavirus and you see your neighbor:
“Haha! Oh my god, I swear we aren’t alcoholics, we just had people over!”
Taking out recycling during Coronavirus and you see your neighbor:
“Haha! I swear to god we didn’t have people over, we’re just alcoholics!”
It’s weird times, no?
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We are very lucky.
We have a yard to get out in and good weather, good health, and both my husband and I are still employed. The children are doing well and adjusting nicely to this learn-from-home scenario. The baby chicks are still all going strong. Marital bliss prevails. We have a well stocked fridge and pantry. And we have masks provided by our talented neighbor who sews.
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DUN DUN DUN: this happened this week:
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~40 years from now~
“Grandma, what did you do during the pandemic of 2020?”
“Well sweetheart, mostly I let laundry pile up and surfed the internet in pajamas until 2pm, but I did put in a row of okra that one time.”
Truly we are the next Greatest Generation.
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You’ll forgive me for the unoriginal blog title, I’m still a little foggy-headed over here. I’ve been sick for a week, thereabout.
Last Thursday I cancelled a work trip to Florida on the day I was supposed to go since I woke up with a fever and cough and an insanely painful sore throat. Went to the doctor, no strep, no flu, and was told “even if we wanted to test you for coronavirus we couldn’t” since there were no tests available. Cool.
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Thanks Leap Year, for letting me squeak this post in. Appreciate it.
It’s been fairly limited as gardening goes so far this month. The weather is mild, the backyard is still ripped up, and the leaves are finally starting to fall off the red oak in the front yard. Said yard also needs to be cut. The weeds in the back corner are JUST interspersed enough with some red poppies that are coming in to prevent weeding, and there are lots of seed packets sitting on my desk.
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I love Valentine’s Day and I judge anyone, pretty harshly, who says they don’t. God we GET it- no one likes Hallmark or diamond commercials or spending $129 on a dozen roses. Where is your imagination though- who dictates that you have to celebrate it the way the commercials say?! You can totally go your own way with it, people.
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