That’s apparently what I am, since Todd and O don’t go out, and V and her dad and stepmother don’t go out. I’m the only one working outside the house.

It was decided, based on a handful of discussions, that it was best for V to stay put with her dad and O to stay put with me for the foreseeable future. It’s the last thing I want, to be separated indefinitely from my daughter. Emotions are running high now. V seems okay with it, for now. O, by stark contrast, was not happy. This is so not a good place to be only 14 days in.

Shout out to my brother, who talked O down off the wall Monday night. I am so grateful for his voice and his relationship with his nephew. The young man who emerged from his bedroom after that phone call was the polar opposite of the one shouting into my phone two hours earlier.

Latest dream from the rabbit hole: the rear passenger side tire is flat on the convertible. I move the car and learn that the whole damn wheel is broken. Like – in HALF. Opac is there. He offers to help but I don’t think he knows how to use Todd’s compressor any more than I do. (What the hell are we going to fix with that?) I need a car. I’m going to miss work. There’s a theme developing here.

Todd “goes to work” in the office downstairs. I hand him his coffee and he kisses me goodbye. Gotta keep up routine. Yesterday he asked me, what should I wear? I suggested he wear a shirt and tie, and boxer shorts. Have to keep things spicy.

He’s still singing Kenny Rogers songs. And he’s growing that sexy gray beard again. A tribute to The Gambler?? I’m not sure how long it will last, so I’m not saying anything.

I took PPL yesterday and drove an hour north to meet V’s dad with insulin and pump supplies, in case for any reason we aren’t able to connect. This whole situation is what they’re calling “fluid” at work. Anything can change, at any given time. Todd asked me how V was, because he knows me so well. (She was there and I DID hug her, with a mask on, so sue me.)

I’ve spent roughly $120 on diabetes supplies in the past week, and $500 on groceries, which is ironic considering I can’t get meat or canned and paper goods. The good news is, there was some stock available in the store today, to ease my anxiety a bit.

Fergus hasn’t been back. Maybe I’ve scared him away. Maybe he’s self-quarantining.

My vodka is almost empty and I’ve gained 5 pounds. Mom says I better get to the liquor store before they close too. I have no interest in going anywhere I don’t have to, but the supply is dwindling.

Pennsylvania has closed their liquor stores. Maryland’s remain open. Makes one wonder why – when every business has been ordered to close – liquor stores remain “essential” businesses. Because if we’re all drunk, we’re easier to control? How’s that for a conspiracy theory?

I have noticed that I’m starting to reconsider how much TP I’m using. I wonder if Todd or O has thought of it. I bet not.

On that note, this morning I realized how lucky I am that I’m quarantined with two MEN. If this was a house full of females, we’d already have been out of toilet paper. My condolences to those with daughters at home.

I have grand ideas of the projects I’m going to get done, and every day they’re still on my to-do list. Maybe today I’ll get one of them started, maybe not. It’s anybody’s guess.

I have received the instructions and access for remote work. This appears to be rolling out next week. I don’t have all the details yet but I need to work on setting up my laptop today. Or tomorrow.

Sabra has not had her bath yet.

At some point we’ll all be too tired, won’t we? Tired of staying home, tired of wiping doorknobs and countertops, tired of wondering if the grocery store has restocked butter and milk, tired of reading, tired of Netflix, tired of watching loved ones eat and wanting to strangle them?

Tired of listening to Cheetolini (who, by the way, is still tanning his face in the middle of a PANDEMIC) feed the public all the bullshit and using his expertise about a new deadly virus and the promise to get life back to normal maybe as early as next week?

The next, obvious, and completely rhetorical question is, is he kidding?

Meanwhile, last Friday a coworker shared a video of Aunt Mary Pat singing a parody of Jolene and now my ear worm sings COVID, COVID, COVID nineteeeeene all day every day. It’s been six days since I first heard it and the one-billionth time I’ve replayed it in my head. If you don’t know who Aunt Mary Pat is, here it is.  *If you hate ear worms, DO NOT click on this link.*