I had to run some errands today and I went alone because *jazz hands* COVID. I felt a little guilty being out, just a driving down Platte, and being “old normal” without my kids. This is so weird.
1. My day started out not awesome. One of the offspring “forgot” to do the power hour project that was assigned. Many much wailing and gnashing of teeth, huffing, stomping, whining was happenin’ at my casa (not from me this time) and it made the morning particularly unpleasant. At one point, I excused myself from the table explaining “I need to step away for a minute and get some water because y’all are dehydrating me with your bullshit.” These kids’ homeschool teacher needs a retrain on the Capturing Kids’ Hearts curriculum. I did get some water and we finished up strong once the student in question realized that I was not going to react to his/her one man Broadway production of “why meeeeeeeee?” Um. It’s like 10 minutes of reading. Calm down, Ms. Bernadette Peters. Side note: because their homeschool teacher can’t get her shit together and they have to re-emerge into civilization eventually, I’m gonna Cricut the cutest little swear jar ever that can fund their teacher’s alcohol consumption. If you hear my kids’ clanking walking around- mind ya business, it’s the just quarters in their pockets.
2. I had to run in to the BX today for handsoap and a few other items, but mostly handsoap. Handsoap is the new toilet paper. Speaking of, the BX was charging $3.59 cents for 2! rolls of toilet paper. Is that extortion? It feels like extortion. Anyway. I picked up some things for my friend and got to take them to her. I dutifully set her stuff at the end of her driveway and stepped back to my car. We got to talk or more like yell at each other from my car to her porch for almost 1.5 hours. I cannot tell you how good for the soul that was. We kept our distancing the entire time but the quarter of a football field between us didn’t prevent us from having a human connection. And here’s my mental health spiel of the day: My first 3 weeks at home were NOT good because I absolutely was not taking care of myself and I wasn’t reaching out to friends like I needed to do. If you’re struggling and you need to talk and don’t know who to call. CALL ME. TEXT ME. WRITE ME. Send a carrier pigeon. Just talk. Human connection helps. If you do know who to call: Call them and be honest. People who love you will love you no matter what ugly stuff is going on inside your head.
3. I do not bite the hand that feeds me, so please don’t misinterpret this as a criticism because it is not. The Army is taking COVID very seriously while maintaining mission readiness. I am taking all my cues and direction from the tower on this one. The Army is known for telling folks to “drink water and take a knee” or giving people Motrin for a missing limb (it’s funny and also terribly not funny cause it’s true). If the Army is telling Soldiers to settle in longer, then somebody hand me sweatpants, Ben & Jerry, and a fuzzy blanket because I ain’t going nowhere. The Army doesn’t give a flip what your Governor thinks. The Army needs people healthy to do their jobs/protect our country and it just completely upended e-va-re-thing to make sure that they do that. The Army keeps rolling along always. The Army just rolled to the house. Food for thought.
4. Lastly, if you’ve ever wondered if I’m intelligent in the slightest- let me regale you with this quick story. Jerry had to do leader checks earlier this week and I warned him his car was almost on empty. He goes and comes back. 2 days later, today, I go to drive his car on errands. My first stop is the gas station to fill up. I grab the nozzle and start putting 85 in. The nozzle keeps clicking off. And I keep jabbing it back in. I look down at the gas cap and it says 87 or 91. Me to me (but also out loud because I’ve been a captive for weeks and have lost social skills): “this car is so smart is must be rejecting 85. I know! I need 87.” There is an audience now. I turn off the pump and re up with 87. I put the nozzle in just enough and go full speed ahead. Now gas is gurgling out of the gas hole thingie and I’m getting DANGEROUSLY close to looking like the plus sized Jessica Simpson at the end of the “Boots are made for walking” video. I give up and decide the pump is defective. The tank was FULL, honey. FULL. I should have bowed for my audience and demanded a round of applause but I was too busy trying to figure out how I was going to disappear. Jesus shoulda snatched that wheel today.