My, My, My, My Corona: You Might Be Asking Too Much

I admit that I’m probably more scared about the Covid-19 virus than many people (finding things to stress about is a personal specialty) and I’m really having a hard time dealing with the strain. Not only do I have to worry about my health and the health of my loved ones, but I also have to suddenly be responsible for meals and education and (gasp!) boredom. Don’t get me wrong–I deal with this stuff on a daily basis–but it has never been to starkly obvious to me that I am now the HBIC.

My library has told me to stay away for a couple of weeks, except for some special circumstances I’m to find out about tomorrow, and I find myself at a loss as to how to run my household. My 13-year-old boy is either a ghost or all in my face, my hubby is either working at his desk or stealing the remote, and my dog just continues to stare at me with his robot eyes (which I am still sure are video cameras recording my every move for some nefarious future purpose). I’m not supposed to go to the store, or the movies, or visit my parents and I find myself locked inside of the house I love, hating almost every last bit of my predicament. Try to think of it as a two week vacation? Not likely.

I know that I lament about things that are decidedly lame and unimportant, but circumstances have rocked my (very little and very precise) world. The hours stretch in front of me for miles and I can only keep thinking about how long it is going to take me to get through them all. I find myself hating sitting on the couch (which I can usually do hours at a time), doing exercise (which I usually try to do every day), and reading books (okay, I haven’t spent much time on this activity lately but things could change) and decidedly grumpy that my world has been, oh so neatly, taken out of my hands.

In an attempt to not get bogged down by the terribleness of this predicament, I am going to practice my writing. I’m not sure if many have noticed, but it has been upwards (if not past) two years since my last post. I lost my mojo somewhere back there and I am hoping to use this as a means to recharge my (usually snarky) battery. For good or for evil I will be sharing my thoughts daily throughout the whole of my domestic captivity. You may not want to hear about my euphoric relationship with Red Vines, but you won’t have a choice. If you made the mistake of reading this far, you are all in for dancing with this devil. I am going to use the hell out of this blog to make myself feel good–whether you’re up for the ride or not. It makes me happy to think that I might make you happy too, but let’s face it–you’re not my first priority. Alright, alright, you know I love you more than my luggage.

I’ve been thinking hard about what to do with this new life of mine and I think that I have come up with a basic outline. I will get up every day at a set time and I will take a hot shower. I will continue my intermittent fasting and try to only eat between noon and eight at night. I, however, do no promise to keep my calories under 1400–the Red Vines alone preclude that from ever happening. I will get the boy up for school (which we are now learning to do online), make him breakfast and fix him lunch. I will clean one area of my house (you should see my upstairs bathroom already–it’s amazing) every day and I will start gathering items to purge once I am free to roam again. Although, I now find myself wondering if the second hand stores would even want my used stuff at this point. Things that make you go hmmm.

I will take the dog for several walks a day (okay, maybe once or twice–what the hell else do I have a teenager for than to do the poopy work?) and try to be my best June Cleaver and have dinner on the table for my loving family every day. Did anyone else laugh when I wrote that? Ahem. Neither did I.  I will write a blog every day and I will try to smile and be thankful that compared to some people out there I have it pretty damned good.

My body dictates that I still try to exercise every day (even though the very thought of it makes me want to vomit) and I have started a walking workout on the treadmill that is inexorably tied to my rediscovery of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. One episode for one workout. I figure this will keep me in check until Angel goes away, but I may be able to pull through until the end of Willow and Oz. Hey, desperate times require desperate actions and I know that I will never be able to pull off this workout thing without a juicy gimmick. It would be too easy to sink into the couch and melt under the heat of 24 hour news coverage waiting for me between every channel showing Harry Potter and Twilight reruns.

And so this is how it will go. I don’t know what the future holds for any of us but I know that I have the strength to get through whatever will be required. I do not promise to never bitch, moan, groan, scream, cry or overreact. I do promise to try to smile and relax and live. I promise to try to be a good mom, a good wife, an adequate cook, and a useful person everyday. I will spend a minute every day wishing you nothing but the best.

Good luck to us all. 

Day One round up:

1 stationary bike workout

2 laps around the lake

2 doughnuts from the grocery store

1 fender bender leaving the store after I bought 2 doughnuts

1 fabulously clean bathroom

8 (or more) Red Vines

1 teenager angry with mom because she wouldn’t let him spend his Disney vacation money (we were supposed to leave this Thursday–waaaah!) on crappy toys from Ebay

1 Buffy workout (“You look like DeBarge”)

1 blog that was more fun to write than was anticipated

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