Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #19

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, groceries, humour, writing

Dear Diary – My phone alarm saved me. I’ve been reluctant to use it. And then I was annoyed by it when I couldn’t make it stop chirping. This morning, I was writing to you when it chirped. I had a chiro appointment in 15 minutes. I wasn’t dressed. I hadn’t showered. I hadn’t brushed my teeth. My hair looked like a bird was nesting in it. In 5 minutes, I was out the door. I was dressed and masked, and still sporting a bird’s nest but I made it in time.

My chiropractor is awesome. She’s a very understanding woman, willing to overlook my leggings and hair. I love her.

We all need people in our life who will pick us up when we fall, after they stop laughing.

Dear Diary – Groceries continue to be an arduous undertaking. This week, the website had odd pricing on2 items I normally purchase. For example, the store brand club pack of chicken thighs was listed at $8.80/kg, but the estimated total cost was $92. Drumsticks weren’t much better at $79. Those must be Sumo-sized chickens, or they’re plated in gold.

So I called the main customer service line, but the operator had no idea. Shocking! She transferred me to another department. That operator agreed they must be extraordinary chickens! She promised to get answers and call me back. Sure, they probably weigh the package and charge accordingly, but with my luck, I’ll be overcharged and spend the next 6 weeks fighting for reimbursement. I’d rather make the call now!

She did call back. It was an error. It couldn’t be fixed. I should place my order and check my bill at pick up time. The whole point up picking up is so I don’t have to get out of the car. Especially in the rain. Which it was… Instead, I cooked a family-sized roast of beef, which we’ve been eating now for 4 days. I think it will last another 4.

Still, I’m thankful for groceries.

Be thankful for what you have. Your life, no matter how bad you think it is, is someone else’s fairtytale.

Wale Ayeni

Dear Diary – I plugged my video game headset in this moring to charge. I wish they had chargers for people too.

On Sunday, Mother’s Day, I was shot at High Noon. Or close to noon – they were running late. The experience was relatively painless. My only frustration was the couples and groups moving through together, after being clearly told to come “alone”. I will never cease to be amazed by stupid people.

But I got my shot! And while lockdown life continues, it feels like a giant leap forward.

The rest of Mother’s Day was lovely. Hubby made waffles for breakfast and I was showered with a few gifts: an ipad cover (because I’m clutzy), pink icing bags (because I still hope to master the craft), a digital thermometer (so I can make brittle without burning…), and some other craft supplies for tie-dying fabric (because I will never cease to play). Supper was frozen pizza and chocolate turds stumps “logs”. I tried to make Prue Leith’s mini chocolate swiss rolls, but the cake was so thin and airy, it was nearly impossible to roll without it all sticking to my fingers. And the chocolate didn’t want to stick to the cake.

Sprinkles covers a multitude of sins

By the end of the day and for most of Monday, I was really tired and slightly lightheaded. I managed to do the essentials: hang out laundry, wash dishes, and cook dinner. I tried to nap, but it started raining on my clothes. I tried reading, but I couldn’t focus on the words. The only other option was to waste time mining ore in Minecraft. It was grand!

By Tuesday, I was back to my normal amount of tired and sore, and I had to hype myself up for my Intro to comedy course.

Those who can laugh at themselves will never cease to be amused.

Dear Diary – I just looked at my grocery bill. I’m missing meat for 2 meals, but my pork tenderloin only cost $0.56 and my 6 loaves of bread cost $2.19. Rarely are mistakes made, in my favour.

Dear Diary – We tackled song writing again in my Intro to Comedy course. We started with writing a parody of an existing song. Mine were:

Before
Time After Time
When Doves Cry
You Make My Dreams Come True
Looking for Comets

This One Goes Out to the One I Love

After
Mime After Mime
When Doves Poop
You Make My Nightmares Come True
Watching for Vomit (have you ever had a pet barf in the night? The terror is real, people)
This One Goes Out to My One-Eyed Love

I have to credit Hubby for ” This One Goes Out to My One-Eyed Love”.

I’m in the midst of writing 3 songs (or poems). One is about being a gamer. Another is inspired by Big Guy, who had a date set up to meet a girl he’d be wooing online…the week lockdowns began. Dating in person during covid (and Canadian winter) was a challenge!

This song is also a work in progress:

verse 1:

The morning started slowly; there was coffee on the stove
The sun was shining brightly, a thing of beauty to behold!
And then I heard a door creak, silence filled the room
A dark creature came forth, a spectre of doom

verse 2:

The figure stumbled toward me. It gave me quite a scare
Its face was white and pasty surrounded by wild hair
Its lips twisted downward. Was it a grimace or a smile?
I knew I’d get an answer if I stayed still awhile.

Chorus:

It was my teeeeen, from the batcave
Awake for his day school.
It was my teeeen from the batcave
I dare not flinch, I am no fool!

Like Stephen King, I scared myself and had to put this away until I could face my fear and start to write again…

Dear Diary – Occasionally I’ll catch a post on FaceBook from my home town. It’s a small, farming community. Little Guy has grown up where every other vehicle is a mercedes or a BMW. I grew up where every other vehicle was a beat-up pick up truck with a broken tail light. Traffic jams were 4 cars stuck behind a tractor. On May 10th around 6 p.m., the police responded to call about a criminal at large, or rather, a large criminal, terrorizing downtown. Actually it was an unmasked brown cow moseying down the street, window-shopping. She’d grown tired of lockdown restrictions and escaped her trailer by kicking down the door. Police corralled her into a new trailer and moo-ved her on. Sometimes I miss the excitement of small town life!

If nobody knows the trouble you’ve seen, you don’t live in a small town.

Unknown

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #17

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, disappointment, disasters, food, groceries, humour

Dear Diary – Stop the world – I want to get off!

This week read like bad sitcom script…or just a never-ending Monday!

I hate Mondays!

Garfield

Last Thursday was a day of disappointment. The grocery store didn’t sell purple food colouring for next week’s birthday cake, and we discovered the restaurant I chose for my birthday dinner…is permanently closed. Despite being lactose intolerant, I’ve had my mouth fixed for 9 cheese ravioli (because anything less than 9 is just foolishness) for 2 years! I’m aware of the consequences of dairy, and I was prepared to deal with them, even if my family was not! Neither disappointment should be reason to mope, but with the long absences from family and with what should be a special occasion looming, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Friday began as a day of hope. My friend made some phonecalls and found purple food colouring at the Bulk Barn. I called them right away. Not only did I get my colour, I also replaced my star icing tip and restocked my spice cupboard. It’s the little things! When I went to pay in person, their debit machine was attached to a hockey stick. What a Canadian thing to do!

Friday evening, Hubby had his astrozenica vaccination. He felt lousy for the weekend and had a migraine Sunday night. Otherwise, he seemed fine.

Monday began with a jolt! Hubby woke me early with a very suspicious mark on his arm. I made him coffee, gave him my cell phone, because his was, of course, completely dead, and dropped him at the E.R. at 8.

Traffic was deliciously light. I made tea and a couple phone calls when I got home. I didn’t want my friend texting Hubby and getting mad at me because I wasn’t replying. I was supposed to pick up groceries for her and for my family at 10. Hubby was in and out quickly, and he’s ok! But when he called me to pick him up, our phone was busy (sorry), and his phone, we later discovered, turns off when it charges. By the time we connected, he was almost home. It was a long, cold walk…

While he was walking, he missed a text from Big Guy telling us he was not having a good day. His transmission blew up and he only made it halfway home from work. He was stuck on the side of the road, waiting for a tow truck!

I never did get my groceries. My grocery reservation magically “disappeared” and all the other time slots were full. I reserved for Tuesday. Turkey leftovers!

2021 got a lot crappier Monday night. I was supposed to shower Monday morning, but I’d had an early, uncaffeinated morning hospital trip…so I decided to stink all day and treat myself to a long, hot shower Monday night. Instead, I discovered that every time we flushed, did laundry or washed dishes, sewage was backing up in the laundry room. I called the town at 8 and after investigating, they connected me to a plumber. Even though we’d like to return the favour and make noise to irritate wake our neighbours, we arranged for them to come Tuesday morning. We could stink for the night and cross our legs for the next 12 hours. There’s always the tree out back! It’s just like camping, but without the lake.

Typical teen was “annoyed” Tuesday morning because he had to attend virtual school upstairs instead of his batcave. He immediately blocked out all the daylight. I wonder if coffee would’ve helped. He thought a “little water” was no reason to change routines. I had to point out it was “poo water”.

We managed to get through our morning ablutions before the plumbers arrived. I tossed our bowl of “washing water” out the back door like a true hick. But I don’t want to talk about the bucket.

The universe continued to conspire against me. First, my grocery reservation was lost, again. Second, the bank cancelled my credit card, for fraudulent activity in the amount of $4.16. The IT guy at Loblaws assured me my reservation for Wednesday was solid. I could pick food up after my physio torture therapy appointment. Maybe the third time is the charm?

I had stale mini marshmallows and toast for lunch.

Someone offered to uber me alcohol! It was very tempting!

Tonight is my second humour class. Our homework was to make note of humorous anecdotes in our week.

My whole life is anecdotal!

Good-bye “Monday”!

Monday is like a math problem. Add the irritation, subtract the sleep, multiply the problems, divide the happiness.

Unknown

Dear Diary – I woke up this morning optimistic that today I would feed my family. My grocery pick-up would go off without a hitch. I would bake my birthday cake without the usual disaster. And I would enjoy “Halo night” with Big Guy.

I drove to the grocery store in a blinding thunderstorm right after my physio torture therapy appointment, and parked in Space #5. I called to let them know I had arrived and settled in to play my Word game on my phone. I immediately got stuck.

While rain had cleared when I notified them of my arrival, it was a torrential downpour when the rather sodden clerk arrived with my baskets. Small talk was impossible over the white noise of nature. With the ineffectual wipers on full, I merrily headed home.

The rain slowed to a steady dribble as I began unpacking the jumble of wet plastic bags in the trunk. But under the jumble, was a haphazard layer of unbagged items. Someone had carefully tied my bags of milk in bags and knotted the handles, but didn’t bag 1 can of pasta sauce, 1 carton of apple sauce, 2 blocks of cheese, 2 blocks of butter, 2 cartons of eggs, 2 bags of hamburger buns, 4 loaves of bread, and 2 chocolate bars. The receipt was a soggy wad of paper. All the bags I had transported thus far had been full so those items had not slipped out on the slow trip home. There were simply no bags.

By this time, I had taken most of the bags inside so I had carry the odds and ends in my arms. I nearly dropped the eggs…twice. My bread was squished. My cheese was dented. I have no idea how the eggs survived.

Worse, I was missing 2 chocolate bars. I had ordered 4. One for the 3 of us (and one for my emergency stash)! After all this trouble, most normal people would cut their losses, but…chocolate!

With my vision darkening around the edges, I abandoned the bags at the door and called the head office number. The estimated weight time was 30 minutes. I wasn’t willing to listen to 30 minutes of covid announcements, so I called the store. Something in my voice made them send me straight to the manager. I kept my tale light-hearted, with a barely distinguishable quiver in my voice. I could feel myself finally slipping over the edge.

A shaft of light broke through the clouds, angels began to sing, and this lovely growly-voiced man refunded half of my grocery bill.

I’m still short 2 chocolate bars.

Dear Diary – It’s my birthday!

The purple cake is baked. I had a great evening playing Overwatch online with Big Guy and his friend.

My parent’s gift is waiting for me at a store nearby.

And Big Guy just texted that he ordered me breakfast. It’s arriving in 10 minutes.

I’d better get dressed…

Oh, yes I can make it now the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is that rainbow I’ve been praying for

It’s gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day!

Jonny Nash, I Can See Clearly Now

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #11

Tags

baking, cooking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, doctors, groceries, humour, music

Dear Diary – I got shot today. I knew it was probably going to happen.

I showed up at the rheumatologist’s office full of pepto bismol and sweating through my t-shirt. I don’t think the doctor quite believed me when I said I’m in bad shape, until he asked me to raise my arms…his eyebrows went up and he grimaced and shook his head before commenting, “nope, definitely going to do the cortisone shot”.

I was prepared for “the worst”. I had envisioned a 6″ needle being forcibly stabbed into my shoulder, followed by searing pain right before I lost consciousness. Instead, it was just a small prick. As he went to sit down to print my prescription, I said “that wasn’t so bad”. Famous last words! No sooner had the words left my mouth, that my body realized the violation to which it had just been subjected, and it screamed at me. I bit my lip under my mask and with curled my toes, tip-toed to the pharmacy next door. I had to replace the shot for the next victim patient.

I texted Hubby from the car: “ow!” Both Hubby & Little Guy met me at the door at home. They cooked dinner and brought me my plate of spaghetti. They even grated cheese on it. The next day, before my “24 hours of rest” ended, Little Guy suggested I leave the dishes…for Hubby. I washed them anyway, but not with my usual vigour.

Now I have to book physiotherapy appointments.

You know you’re getting old when..your address book has mostly names that start with Dr.

Dear Diary – I was excited this week because a current contestant on the Great Canadian Baking Show liked my scone photo from Monday’s post on my Instagram account! He isn’t a celebrity, but it’s the closest I may ever get!

Apparently the CBC is accepting applications for Season 5 of the show. I told Hubby, just to see the look of panicked horror on his face. Even I know my limitations!

Dear Diary – It was Christmas grocery week again, and everything seemed to come together so smoothly. It shoud have been a red flag. When the guy came with my substantially loaded cart, he apologized because they lost one of my bins, and I had already been charged for everything. I was going to have to call and ask for a reimbursement. My stomach immediately twisted in a knot because I knew this was going to be a hassle. Then I had a moment of illumination, and asked nicely, “since you know what’s missing, might there be someone free who could grab those 4 items now”? He supposed he could, if I was willing to wait.

I was willing to wait.

Eggplant paremesiana, a new experiment for me, doesn’t work so well with no eggplant!

Dear Diary – Last weekend, Hubby was worried he was coming down with Covid. He only had to wait 24 hours for a testing appointment, and in that time he gave us all a wide berth. I started to feel like I was the one with the plague, and with such close contact in our small house, if he had it, it was toooooo late! Sunday morning he came home relieved that he had not been lobotomized during the testing. On Monday afternoon, I was in the process of calling to reschedule an appointment, when he hollered up the stairs, “I don’t have the plauge”!

On the plus side, he can now taste his coffee.

That might seem like an odd comment, but the man has virtually no sense of taste or smell. I believe him after, several years ago, he stuck his nose next to Little Guy’s horrifically smelly bum (I could smell it on another level of the house) and inhaled without passing out.

Dear Diary – Why are dermatology offices always pristine, minimalist, and white? Soft flute music was piped throughout. I felt like I was in a spa (or what spas look like on t.v. having only been to one once in my life). I could certainly have used a relaxing massage…and maybe a pedicure!

Dear Diary – Hubby farted and I asked him, “what is that? B-flat?”. I was close. He farted a perfect middle C.

We already know I scream in A.

Talk nerdy to me!

Dear Diary – It’s nearly time to clean the oven again. Little Guy commented last night that he thought he smelled smoke. The oven had just been on because I had just baked another batch of pumpkin chai scones, so I told him it wasn’t smoke, but the incense of many burnt offerings.

Today me will live in the moment, unless it’s unpleasant, in which case me eat a cookie.

Cookie Monster