My pity party

Feeling like whining tonight. I, who have crowed about not minding quarantine and maybe becoming a recluse, have to eat humble pie. Isolation 24/7 with just a dog—okay she’s sweet and responsive but she can’t discuss books or menus—is wearing on me. Since my family went to New Orleans, we all decided they should quarantine away from me for five days—and then mask for five more days. See the irony there? They got a trip, and I got the isolation, while the three of them are together in the house. Plus friends that ordinarily would come to visit are staying home for reasons that range from caution to possible exposure. So here Sophie and I are, and she’s not taking it any better than I am.

Yesterday, we were busy with emails and package exchange. Jordan or Jacob would bring a package and set it on the step by my kitchen door. I’d retrieve it, and then replace it with the bag of stuff I had to go into the house. At one point I suggested using a small stool—with packages on the step I had to lean so far down from my seat in the walker that I was in danger of tumbling out headfirst. The stool was a big help. Today there was not as much traffic, but I did get a package from Amazon I was anxious to have—a new electric toothbrush since mine died. And tonight Jordan came out to retrieve a half red onion and a small can of green chilies. When she wrote that request, she said, “I hate this.”

My cottage needs her. The remnants of the party that never was are still taking up space in my work area. Most of them go back in the house, and I have no space to store them, so they wait until she can take them. The buffet that serves as a chest of drawers in my bedroom is covered with Christmas stuff, and I need her help to put it away.

Although it seems like forever, we’ve only been at this two days, and I admit I’ve gotten lazy. My bed is pulled up but not really made, and, yes, at nine o’clock at night I am still in last night’s jammies. I did put away the contents of several packages that arrived. The toothbrush interior package turned out to have been opened—someone had zipped of the perforated strip that held the top together and then closed the gap with clear tape. Makes me think the package had previously gone to someone who returned it, but I’m sorry—I don’t want a toothbrush that’s been examined by other hands. I’m returning it. And I cleaned out some files, started a grocery bag (my very efficient method I’’ve used for years) for 2021 tax stuff, and put new files in the rack by my desk for 2022. And today I sent a proposal for my Helen Corbitt project to a publisher who I really hope will be interested. By the time I got it all together, the proposal was, in my eyes, a thoroughly professional piece of work. So I’m not totally lazy, but there’s a strong drift in that direction.

Computer woes of the minor variety have chosen this time to visit me. I read a Facebook post I thought well-put and shared it, only to have Facebook tell me such content violated their community standards. Wait! If that were true, why was it on there for me to share? Last night I tried to respond to an email on a list on which I’m active—and the message bounced back several times. I respond on that site all the time without a problem. Tried my other email account—same thing. The president of the writers’ group suggested another avenue, which I tried with success, but it bugs me that my usual  way didn’t work.

And then Amazon book reviews! The Most Land, The Best Cattle: The Waggoners of Texas has five-star reviews except for one three-star, which dragged my average down considerably. So I wanted to see who objected and why, but it is a well-kept secret. I can’t find that one review anywhere.

It’s no wonder that I recently realized that I frown a lot. Actually I realized it over the holidays when family took pictures. There I am in too many of them with that furrow above my eyes. And since I’v become so aware of it, I can feel myself doing it all the time. Then I make a conscious effort to relax those muscles. I wonder if there are yoga-like exercises for facial muscles. I already do them for my feet and recently discovered some exercises to relax and strengthen the hands, which I really need. Why not the face?

Enough. I’m going to have a glass of wine and read about what Barbara Pym ate. Tomorrow will be a better day.