Hello my possums. Here we are, heading into week three of the Great Withdrawal.  Donna is using the time to sort out her closets and drawers once and for all. Erika thinks it would be easier to be isolated with toddlers over teens, as little kids at least want to be with their parents. Cheryl is a customer service manager at a grocery store, and is asking that people not leave their used gloves and masks in their carts when they’re done. Margaret works in transportation logistics, and wants to give a shout out to the truck drivers who bring us the goods we need, many of whom are not being treated very well – “like lepers, some of them” Margaret say, “not even being allowed to use the rest room at truck stops”. For shame. And Ellen played the soap opera game, but since she doesn’t have a middle name, and grew up on Slate Street, she is of course Blank Slate.

 

The weekend was actually quite action packed, under the circumstances. Friday night we had virtual cocktails with John’s sister Helen. The cocktails were real enough, but we met over Zoom, the video conferencing service everyone seems to be using these days. What happened to Skype, or What’sApp, or FaceTime? I can’t keep up. What we need is a lighting app, or one that tightens one’s sagging jawline. In any case, we checked in with Helen, our niece Jacquie and her BF Harry. Everyone there is doing fine. Saturday night, we had real life dinner guests. Aidan and Jamie are the only outsiders we are allowing in. Even then, they brought our number to 6, which is one more than we are officially allowed, so, sadly, John had to eat in the garage. I’m kidding, of course, but I do wonder how they are going to enforce this latest ruling. I don’t want to pay a $750 fine for hosting a family dinner.

 

On Sunday, we had another online visit with friends in Port Hope. They are just back from Mexico, where they own two homes they rent as airbnb’s. Of course all their bookings have been cancelled, and, as this is their main source of income, they are, in effect, pooched. Finally, I texted back and forth with my brother, who is in hospital in Germany getting this wild, literally cutting edge treatment for a recurrence of throat cancer. He is also doing ok, but suggested that he may die from sheer boredom. He is so bored I bet he is reading this right now. Hang in there, Neill Balboa (his soap opera name).

 

All to say that it’s remarkable how many people I’ve spent time with this weekend, without actually being in the same room with them. The grocery shopping is more of a challenge. We are supposed to try and limit our visits to once a week, but we are going through mountains of food. I looked into arranging grocery delivery, but everything is booked up for days, if not weeks in advance. Amazon Prime told me I could not get toilet paper until April 21st. We don’t have a tissue issue yet, but it is glimmering on the horizon. In the mean time, three squares a day takes on new meaning.

 

Back to work tomorrow. I hope you are coping as best as you can. Have you started – or finished – “Ozark” yet? What about “Tiger King”? Are you on the baking kick yet? Apparently flour is flying off store shelves, and everyone is looking for sourdough starter. Have you signed up for a Master Class? Started a fitness program? Called your Aunt Thelma? Tell me what you are doing in the mean time, and maybe the time won’t seem so mean.

 

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