I was reading an article on how to know if my relationship is working.
Bob begged me to stop reading it.
Or at least to stop reading it out loud.
But I carried on.
It was funny.
According to the article, we are in trouble.
The information seemed to be based entirely on social media breakups and badly-written romance novels.
It appeared to be written by a precocious middle schooler.
Bob continued to beg me to stop.
But I carried on.
It was funny.
Until I got to the line that urged him to “Stop being the one to fix things around the house.”
Excuse me?
I beg your pardon?
Oh, I don’t think so.
Bob has spent the quarantine fixing things around the house.
He’s detailed the cars.
He’s constructing flower beds.
He’s been knocking down wasp nests as fast as they are going up.
I finally agreed.
It’s time to stop reading this article.
Go ahead, Bob.
Keep fixing things around the house.
I’ll be quiet now.
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I took my first online yoga class today.
Yoga made me realize a few new things about myself.
I learned that I am uncoordinated.
I learned that I have lousy balance.
I learned that I am impatient.
Yoga is so SLOW.
I found myself yelling at the screen, “Alright already, just move, move, MOVE!”
Yeah, I know, kinda like a drill sergeant.
My sister does yoga.
She is very good at it.
With no effort at all, she can fold herself into a lovely origami swan.
I have to admit, I did feel good after the class was done.
Maybe I’ll do it again.
However, I do need to be reasonable about this.
I’ll never achieve lovely origami swan status.
I need to set a more realistic goal.
Maybe I could strive for an origami drill sergeant.
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“What the heck is this Tiger King thing I keep seeing?” The Husband asked.
I laughed and laughed and laughed.
I explained Tiger King to him.
“You really watched that?” he asked, surprised.
I watched one episode, and I’ve seen the memes.
That’s all I need to know.
He assured me that if I annoy him during this quarantine, he will play Tiger King at full volume.
Hey, that’s MY threat.
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I was only kidding.
It was just a joke.
I swear, The Husband has never encased me in cement.
He’s never even threatened to encase me in cement.
The worst thing he has ever done is to roll his eyes at me.
Which is really, really, really annoying.
It makes me want to encase him in cement.
Except that I don’t know how to do it.
I would have to ask him to help me.
Actually, I would just sweet talk him into doing it himself.
He would probably say yes.
He always does.
But he would roll his eyes at me.
It’s a vicious cycle.
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The Husband was on the phone in the other room.
He was laughing, and he was loud.
He was talking about encasing something in cement.
It will last forever.
This quarantine is making me paranoid.
I really, really, really hope he was not talking about me.
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At intervals along the sidewalk in my neighborhood, a kid had written jokes in chalk.
At first I didn’t pay any attention.
But then I started to read them, and they were funny.
What is orange and sounds like a parrot?
A carrot.
I had to take a second lap around the block to read the ones I had missed.
Great job, Kid!
We’ve got a budding comedian in the neighborhood.
Now I expect to be entertained for the rest of the quarantine.
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April Fools!
There’s nothing like a 4:00 am hypo on April Fools’ Day.
I got up with the Grown Son and helped him raise his numbers.
He went back to bed.
I can never sleep after one of those middle-of-the-night scares.
I put up some coffee and unpeeled fruit stickers from all over the kitchen.
There’s nothing like a disturbing diabetes episode to put the fruit sticker flinging into perspective.
I guess I’m going to need a new Inciting Incident.
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Day Whatever of the quarantine.
The grown son has taken to flicking fruit stickers willy-nilly around the kitchen.
This may very well be my Inciting Incident…
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Day whatever of the quarantine.
I took a Buzzfeed quiz.
I found out that I am not a psychic.
But already knew that.
So maybe I really am a psychic.
Who’s the psychic now, Buzzfeed?
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I just finished Season One of True Detective.
It wasn’t really a cop show.
It wasn’t really about a cold case.
It wasn’t really about what might have happened all those years ago.
That was just the vehicle to tell the story.
The real story was about sin and redemption.
And grief.
And enduring friendship.
I can’t wait to start Season Two.
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