Grand Slam Communication
I’m not hoarding.
I am trying to plan my groceries so I don’t have to go to the store so often.
I’m trying to stay ahead of the shopping.
My family is oblivious to my efforts.
This is why we have three opened jars of salsa.
Two opened bags of English muffins.
And several opened packages of cheese.
In the interest of not having to lift a finger, they put empty boxes back in the pantry.
And dishes with one bite remaining back in the fridge.
I may have found another inciting incident.
I had words with the Grown Son about housekeeping standards.
He shared his own wise household hints with me.
Apparently his short stint in a bachelor apartment has made him an expert.
I very politely reminded him that he is in my home.
And we will be keeping house up to my standards.
I may have been slightly more harsh than “very polite.”
We reached an amicable compromise.
We’ll do it my way.
I washed the kitchen floor.
I told the family to stay off of it for half an hour.
You would have thought their world had come to an end.
Keep in mind it was 10:30 in the morning.
And everyone had already eaten breakfast.
Please say a prayer for my family during this very difficult time in their lives.
The nice thing about being quarantined with a type one diabetic is that I can’t stress bake.
T1D has saved me from gaining tons of weight during this quarantine.
I’ve been stress reading instead.
Reading is 100% carb-free.
Who knew that type one diabetes could come in so handy?
I was reading an article about online relationship advice
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.
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 about terrible relationship advice.
Go ahead, Bob.
Keep fixing things around the house.
I’ll be quiet now.
“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.
I swear, I was only kidding.
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.
But 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.
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.
Day Whatever of the quarantine.
The grown son has been flicking fruit stickers willy-nilly around the kitchen.
This may very well be my Inciting Incident…
The Grown Son has been training the dog during the quarantine.
“Bark twice if you see a virus.”
So far, the dog hasn’t barked.
And we are all healthy.
It worked!
I guess the thousands and thousands of viewings of Anchorman have finally paid off.