random truths – Day 1,085 (Tuesday) – reality hit

The view from the smock room,
March 7, 2020.

On March 7, 2020, COVID-19 started to become real. The news for that day included a story about federal officials trying to figure out where to dock a cruise ship off the coast of San Francisco that had COVID cases. 

According to the entry on the website The Week for March 7, 2020, “Overall, the number of global cases of COVID-19 crossed the 100,000 threshold Friday and it has reportedly killed nearly 3,500 people. The U.S. death toll rose to 17 after Florida reported two fatalities, the first that weren't on the West Coast.” In Austin, the South by Southwest Festival, due to start on March 13, was cancelled for the first time in 34 years. 

On March 7, 2020, as I drove back to Lowell from a hair appointment in Worcester, my phone rang. It was a message from the Bank to all employees, telling us that the annual Bank-wide Celebration of Success, scheduled for the following Tuesday, was cancelled. Having 500 team members in one place was too risky. The event had been postponed by one day in the past due to snowstorms, but this was something else.

That evening, I met friends at Christina’s Restaurant in Leominster for dinner, followed by a dance party at the Elks club with the band Neurotic Gumbo. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was my last time eating dinner in a restaurant with friends for a year, maybe two. Possibly three, if we’re talking about a sit down restaurant dinner with drinks, at night.

March 7, 2020.

Had we known what was coming, we would probably have taken photos to mark the event. Instead, the photos from that date are of the glass block window in the smock room at the hair salon and its warped view of the outside, and my hair after it had been blown out straight and smooth. 

Since that day three years ago, nothing has been quite the same. Schedules, relationships, routines, work, all shaken up and not always put back together the way they were. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. Just different.

random truths – Day 1,084 (Monday) – content

The Sunday panic shopping included a package of Portuguese sweet muffins from Ocean State Job Lots. The grocery department there has a lot of cool stuff like the jam made by the Trappist Monks and coffee I don’t see anywhere else. And the Portuguese sweet muffins and bread.

Breakfast!

This morning, before work and because the sweet muffins were on the counter, one was toasted and buttered for breakfast. It was delicious. Fortifying. 

Oddly, despite the breakfast that was more substantial than the usual granola bar, I was hungry by 11:00. The kind of hungry where my stomach was making embarrassing loud rumbly noises and I was worried that the colleague at the desk next to mine could hear it.

Lunch was microwaved leftover grilled chicken breast with roasted cauliflower and broccoli pulled from the freezer right before dashing out the door. It was less satisfying than breakfast. The chicken was dry, but it took only three minutes from deciding to eat lunch and actually eating lunch, so speed was a clear benefit and I was content with that.

Sometimes, contentment is a simple as a toasted sweet muffin and lunch that is ready in a flash.

random truths – Day 1,083 (Sunday) – panic and pants

On Saturday, time was spent trying on clothes from the closet. Five or six pairs of work pants that don’t fit were pulled, folded, and set aside in a pile. They will likely be donated, because even though they could probably be sold through a consignment shop, that takes a lot more work than setting them at the curb when the Big Brother Big Sister collection truck is in the area. Hopefully, having them gone from the closet will alleviate some of the morning wardrobe stress.

The casual pants/denim drawer was also reviewed. Several pairs of jeans were removed and stacked to disappear. One pair of beloved dark wash skinny leg jeans hasn’t fit for years. They might be considered an aspirational item if I was actually trying to lose weight to fit back into them. That trick used to work.

In my late 20s, my mood and comfort level with myself was affected by whether a single pair of size five Chic jeans fit. They usually didn’t, but on those magical times when they did, it felt like I could conquer the world. Years later, it was a pair of dark wash denim Vera Wang jeans that provided the power. There have been no such magical jeans for about the last 11 years, which is about the last time I felt invincible. Oh, the good old days. 

Refresh button.

Today’s panic shopping to backfill the drawer and closet started oddly enough with a fixation on boots before shifting to denim. Three pairs of jeans were tried on at TJ Maxx with comical horrible bad luck, but a peach patterned blouse and some white boots were bought. 

Over at Kohl’s, there was better luck with denim. Two pairs were tried and both fit. One pair was bought, and the other pair that was tried on confirmed that the jeans ordered online the other day will fit. On the drive home, I realized the blouse from TJ Maxx would go with the dress pants that were left in the Kohl's shopping cart because they weren't on sale. We can all probably guess what will happen next.

Everything was on sale. Until I wear them, things can be returned. These are the things I tell myself. And Winston, but he never knows (or cares) what I’m talking about unless the word “cookie” is part of it. 

random truths – Day 1,082 (Saturday) – snow day

Today is the answer to one of my favorite dorky third grade/Dad jokes.

Q: What is the bossiest day of the year?

A: March 4^th (forth)

I crack myself up with that one every year. Because I'm a dork, in case you wondered.

The weather forecast for the bossiest day of the year called for snow. Unlike many weekends,  there was an actual plan for the day. After sleeping late (8:00), the official plan was to stay inside where it was dry and warm, at least until it stopped snowing. I love personal plans that carry a high rate of success. Winston was feeling extra cuddly and amorous and kept wrapping his paws around my forearm and licking my wrist. 

It snowed most of the day with the tiny flakes pouring forth from the sky. It was the heavy, moist, “widow maker” stuff. Shoveling was a workout, which makes three workouts so far for the entire winter season, including the “angry ice chopping” sessions a week ago. I feel stronger already.

Late in the afternoon, after seeing a Facebook post that the monthly open studio event was taking place at Western Ave Studios, I traded the fleece lounge pants for jeans and bolted out the door. There was only one hour left, but that was enough time to visit a couple studios, particularly that of a handsome painter who recently posted some amazing new paintings done while at a program in the Midwest a few months ago. I chatted with the painter once or twice in his studio before the pandemic.  

I headed out to Pawtucket Boulevard and turned onto the bridge on Mammoth Road. Once across the bridge, I thought it was the wrong bridge and turned onto Pawtucket Street and headed over to the Rourke Bridge.

At the Rourke Bridge I realized the other bridge was the correct bridge and just hadn’t gone far enough down the street. DUH! I turned onto the bridge and crossed the river, landing across the street from Market Basket and Marshalls. It was close to 4:30 and the open studios ended at 5:00. The idea of the handsome painter was abandoned.

Instead of artist studios, it was chain retail. In Marshalls, a pair of white Chelsea boots and pair of white Doc Martens were serious contenders for a share of my wallet. Jeans were browsed. Pants were browsed. Beauty products were browsed. I left empty handed.

Next door at Market Basket, the shopping was more fruitful. Purchases were roasted chickens for Winston, and Tri Sum chips, ice cream, bananas, ramen, and coffee creamer for me. At the deli counter, lobster cakes perilously close to the “sell by” date were on discount and bought for supper.  

The price may have been good, but the lobster cakes were only “meh.” I was glad they weren’t full price, and there is no need to look for them ever again.  

random truths – Day 1,081 (Friday) – upgrades

What a difference early morning coffee at home makes. The new funnel was placed in the not even two-months old coffeemaker. By the time I was dressed for work, coffee was ready, with minimal manual intervention required. The day was off to a great start.

In the living room, coffee was enjoyed. Winston was cuddly. Wordle was solved. Emails were checked. News was read. An email from two weeks ago about participating in an art exhibit was finally answered.

A Kohl’s ad interrupted the Facebook scrolling. It featured a pair of dress pants looked at recently and parked in the shopping basket with two pairs of pants on clearance and a pair of jeans. 

The ad reminded me of the items languishing in the shopping basket, along with the 20% coupon that arrived in Thursday’s mail and was valid beginning today. After a few too-easy clicks and taps, the two pairs of pants that were on clearance, the jeans were ordered, and wardrobe updates are on the way. I was grabbing the day by the ovaries and it was barely 7:30 am. 

Like most Friday mornings, the traffic was light. At the office, the earlier momentum continued. Projects moved along without problems or even hiccups. 

Bagel breakfast of champions.

No lunch was carried in due to an absence of interesting options that led to a decision to get something from a restaurant. When a colleague mentioned she was getting something from a nearby coffee shop, I decided to get a big breakfast and bump lunch. 

A lightly toasted everything bagel with cream cheese, lox, capers, onion, and tomato was ordered using a gift card from Christmas. It was a huge improvement over the usual dry granola bar. Except for the part where I was eating it at my desk, breakfast reminded me of weekend mornings in New York during my twenties. Some memories are really delicious.

Most of the morning felt easy, breezy, and like I was living someone else’s life. It felt like an upgrade, and it was  pretty good. 

random truths – Day 1,080 (Thursday) – front door

 There have been quirks and surprises arriving at the front door this week. Tuesday evening, the next-door neighbor texted that she was coming over to get her Amazon package. She sent the photo the driver provided of her package delivery for #135 which was sitting on my front step, right below the white mailbox with 129 on it in blue lettering. The mailbox is 20 feet away from the fence corner post with my house number on two panels, to be visible on the approach to the house, and while in front of it. A pre-schooler could probably figure it out. But not some delivery drivers. Numbers are hard, I know.

Dude, you gotta move.

Twice this week, Winston has been outside barking and I’ve been unable to let him in because he was standing on the top step, up against the door. It’s a poorly designed entrance. If I opened the door, he would be launched sideways down the stairs, like so many delivery packages. 

The first time this week, to rectify the dilemma and rescue the pup, I went out the back door, down the driveway, and into the fenced front yard to scoop up my boy from the step, open the door, and carry him inside. Today, I ended up shoveling the end of the deck on the other side of the house and the steps leading to it, and crossing the driveway to enter the yard to fetch my fur boy. At least it was a productive rescue.

This evening, there was a noise at the door, and a large box from Amazon appeared in the porch. The box was much larger than the masks or the purse strap I am expecting. I wondered if it was another delivery intended for a neighbor.

The box held a new coffeemaker. I was expecting a replacement funnel part, but the seller sent an entire unit. That was a nice surprise. And a relief. The accidental coffee boycott is over and tomorrow morning, there shall be coffee. Lives will be saved. 

Now I need to figure out where to store the backup unit and carafe.

random truths – Day 1,079 (Wednesday) – progress

The morning routine without the coffee maker had another slightly rugged start. The company is sending a replacement funnel, but until it arrives, it feels like being lost in the woods. I fumbled through the morning routine in a fog and then couldn’t remember if I gave Winston his insulin. Again. The second time in a few weeks.

The car was coated in ice and snow and the windshield looked like textured glass. I nearly wiped out on some very slick ice at the end of the driveway while clearing snow off the hood of the car. It was quite the waker-upper. 

On the walk from the garage to the office, a 20-ounce coffee was grabbed from The Coffee Mill. It really helped kick start things, and from then on, things fired on all cylinders. The lengthy to-do list that keeps receiving additions was no match for me and that coffee.

At the start of the day, four list items were flagged as “F/U,” shorthand for “follow up.” Sometimes, depending upon the number of times that follow up has been already been conducted without results, it may take on tones of the other, more colorful “eff you.” Luckily, this is rare.

Two follow ups yielded answers that allow me to proceed full steam ahead. One inquiry yielded an answer of “tomorrow,” which was great, because it meant I didn’t need to think about it again until then. One follow up didn’t happen because I didn’t make time to send the email asking about it.

Stock photos were searched and selected. Copy was tweaked. Project info went to the graphics guru for design or edits. Words went to the digital goddess for a web page layout. Quote requests went out. Layouts came back and one project moved into the formal review process. Progress is a great feeling.

There was one moment of panic when I thought I somehow missed a meeting. It turned out I read my calendar wrong and it wasn’t for a couple more hours.  

Back at home, poor Winston was in a drenched diaper band and his water bowl was empty, signs that I had, indeed forgotten his insulin in the morning. When I filled the bowl, he drank about half of it right away, then barfed water on the floor. Poor guy. 

After picking through his dinner, he sat and silently begged for some of mine, then napped. He probably feels like crap from the insulin thing, and I feel like crap for putting him through it.