random truths – Day 1,020 (Sunday) – New Year

A new day meant new players in the rotating team of COVID symptoms. It was a restless night of sleeplessness, accompanied by tossing, turning, and some colorful sweary thoughts during the extended and undesired awake time, but none out loud to avoid waking the peacefully slumbering Canine Overlord. The first day of the brand new year dawned with a headache back in the lineup, along with runny nose and queasy, delicate stomach.

Foggy morning windows.

The unusual New England weather with spring-like morning temperatures around 50 degrees had the storm doors and windows on the enclosed porch artfully fogged over. The view through the fog looked dreamy. The air smelled earthy, like in the spring after a rain, creating a pleasantly confusing January environment. 

Inside the house things were lazy and quiet, partly due to the Sunday morning vibe but mostly a result of the visiting headache and friends. It was the perfect setup for a Hallmark movies and Netflix streaming day.

On Hallmark, the handsome leading actors with interesting careers (Architect! Holiday decorator!) grappled with work issues and budding romances against a backdrop of Christmas decorations and festive events that attempted to recreate the best childhood memories of family togetherness with a generous side of “my parents want me to live their dream and don’t care what I want.”

On the Netflix stream, it was the continuation of the full three-season binge of Emily in Paris begun on New Year’s Eve. It’s just as delightful on the second binge as it was on the first. So many pretty people in Paris with exciting jobs in art, fashion, and food and the usual heart entanglements and family issues. But in Paris! Sigh.

Predictable plots are comforting and a nice distraction from being obsessed with the shifting symptoms of COVID, which gave new meaning to starting the year on “a positive note.”

The pizza purveyor was open. Unfortunately, the Cowboy Bites I’ve been craving, an on-again, off-again side item is off the menu again. It was a large pizza with pineapple and Kalamata olives for the  no-contact delivery win.

While waiting for the delivery, usually heralded by a knock on the door after the items are left on the table in the enclosed porch, Winston paced near the door like he wanted to go out. The pizza tracker showed the order as still being prepared, so it seemed there was time. I opened the door to let Winston into the porch and out to the yard. As I approached the storm door, the pizza delivery driver was on the other side.

Pineapple and
Kalamata olive pizza.

Being stricken with cooties, I scurried back inside to maintain the “no contact” aspect of the delivery. Meanwhile, the delivery dude stood on the steps peering through the storm door, probably confused, as though awaiting an invitation to enter. I yelled that he could put it on the table, which is exactly what was printed in the instructions on the slip taped to the pizza box. 

Out on the porch, someone else’s bottle of Diet Coke was left with my order. Oops. The order may have lacked the beloved side item of fried balls of bacon, jalapeno, corn, and cream cheese with a dipping sauce, but the pizza was as good as ever. The perfect mix of sweet pineapple, salty olives, and melted cheese on a crust was the ideal supper. This concoction hadn’t been ordered in many months, and it was as good as ever. It was another instance where something was predictable and comfortable.

Happy Pizza New Year.