NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
I remember going to church when I was younger; I can still remember the smells of musty old men in sad suits that had been farted in a million times, granny perfumes, and wafting incense as the congregation robotically recited prayers that were beaten into brains since birth with the use of fear and guilt.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
The title of this post could be referring to the amount of (Lola) dog hair I find in, on, around, beside, below, and above almost every piece of furniture, in every room, and in every orifice in the house (don’t ask). But it’s not.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
Tuesday was not one of my better days. Since the start of this whole mess we, the people of the earth find ourselves in, I have been doing what I do and rolling with the pandemic punches. However, that was not the case on Tuesday.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
There will be glue-sniffing until further notice.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
I am a creature of habit and routine. Many of my days are spent doing the same things as the day before, at the same general times, for the same general reasons. Some days vary slightly due to Premier League match times, school cancellations, appointments, or a dreaded trip away from home because plans were made for me.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
My family and I are not ill. Yet.
And we’re not “officially” quarantined for any real reason other than not wanting to come into contact with any more potentially sick people than we have to. I can leave the house if I want to. And if you tell me I can’t, then I probably will.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
I have tried and failed numerous times to write this post. In my gut, that sounds like my typical slacktard hyperbole, but it’s true.
“Mary, Mary, why you buggin’?”
“Proud Mary keep on burnin’.”
“Hail Mary, etc., etc…”
I promise this has something to do with something, but I’m not there yet.
The same, the same, the same, the same, the same. Some days, everything feels the goddamn fucking same. Pardon that language, but some days everything truly does feel the same. Until it doesn’t. But then it’s back to the same. Know-what-I-mean?
One of the worst things about my brain—and there are many—is that I don’t see the future. That’s not some suicide watch bullshit, that is just me saying that beyond the vision of my son graduating high school and moving on to college in a few years, I see nothing other than what is on my calendar next week.
