Another instalment of The Lockdown Diaries: Happy birthday and here’s a coup
Lockdown Day 322: How was my birthday, you ask? Why, Americans chose that day to have a coup! Out went a planned dinner, in came two kinds of appetizers eaten in front of a TV I rarely watch. They required different oven temperatures. I did my famous “split the difference” to produce two mediocre options. My commitment to NWWW (no white wine in the week) went out the window, much like the democracy I watched implode before my eyes.
Lockdown Day 323: Pammy and Christopher got a Dyson vacuum for Christmas from Arlene, who used to be my high school English teacher and is now the woman who spoils my kids (and me) rotten. Pammy cried when she opened it, exclaiming through her tears in a tight whisper, “I love cleaning soooo much.” We discussed how much dirt those things suck from places you thought were clean, which is both fascinating and disgusting. Why can’t all vacuums be this good, we pondered. Christopher weighed in, and announced it was Big Vacuum behind the fact all vacuums are not, in fact, fabulous. I decided it would also explain why vacuums are so noisy. Like so many other things, the only reasonable explanation is a conspiracy theory.
Lockdown Day 324: Awoke in the middle of the night to Sweet Pea barfing somewhere. This leads, as always, to the same dilemma: lie awake trying to figure out where it is and then wondering how to remind yourself when you wake up so you don’t step in it, or just getting up and cleaning it at 3 a.m. Either way, sleep is done for the night.
Lockdown Day 325: A reader told me she has started doing paint-by-numbers as a way to combat feeling bored and isolated. I’ve told the family I am considering this, because like bumper bowling, it seems like a surefire success. The family remains unconvinced of the soundness of my plans for a new hobby. I am not noted for my artistic prowess. Yet. Lockdown Day 326: Got a glasstopped coffee table. Cairo cannot understand why she can’t hit Pea through it. Thunk thunk thunk. Me trying to work, Cairo failing to connect. Lockdown Day 327: Christer was surprised to learn that adult humans don’t need milk, and that lactose intolerance is a program, not a bug. Fun discussion about how lobbyists push weird things into government food
guides. We now call it Big Milk.
Lockdown Day 328: When mom was alive, we talked on the phone nearly every day. My sons are not phone people. Instead, we just send pictures of the dogs and cats back and forth. Because they never change (the pets, not the kids), I’m pretty sure they’re just firing off pictures they’ve had in their phones for years to shut me up.
Lockdown Day 329: I’ve decided I’m buying one of those grabby stick things you pick up garbage with. I need a job to do on my walks when I’m leisuring. Lockdown Day 330: Whipped potatoes with roasted garlic. It’s what’s for breakfast.
Lockdown Day 331: Ari and Sarah recently moved into a lovely apartment building. Ari called me, furious. There had been a food bank collection box in the lobby, and someone stole it. If you needed that food, I understand. For anyone donating, please, please, please go online and find your local food bank/agency and send them money online. It’s fast, any amount is appreciated, and they can buy far more with that money than you can. Your communities are struggling; please help if you can.
Lockdown Day 332: Remember how excited we were to leave 2020 behind? All I’m gonna say is, 2021, I kept the receipt and you may be going back.
We’re nearly there. Don’t let up.