pendulum swinger

That’s me.

I’m all – “Huh, ANOTHER day of quarantine? Another day that bleeds into the one before and the one that comes after? Another day with kids bickering and nowhere to go?”

And then, I’m also, “We get to stay home tomorrow? COOL! I don’t have to put on pants or fix my hair? I don’t have to interact with any other humans and I can just stay in one place all day long?”

It’s like the longer I stay home, the less social I become. I’m suddenly exhausted if I have to talk on the phone TWO times in one day. What??? I already made one phone call today, PLEASE don’t make me have a second phone call.

I’m not really any more productive. In fact, I am shockingly undisciplined it seems. I guess I need deadlines and last minute to be any sort of productive.

How I have I made this far in life? (You think I’m joking.)

I ventured out to the grocery store this weekend. It was my first time in a grocery store in at least two weeks. Listen, everybody, I get that it’s stressful. We don’t have to shake hands or give hugs or get any closer than six feet apart. But, for the love of all things holy, would it be so painful to SMILE? That’s still allowed, right?

I spent about $170 on groceries. That was Saturday. You guys. I think the food supply in my fridge looked low again by the end of the weekend. Why is everyone at my house so hungry?

Also, I could only buy two dozen eggs. That’s going to last until Tuesday, maybe. No wonder everyone in the country just became chicken farmers this weekend.

In cleaning out our barn I opened up my trunk of memories. (Before giving said trunk away.) I have been writing so many words all of my life. It is provable. I saved so much of them. Diaries from fifth grade and on. Endless pages of words and thoughts and feelings. Nonsense and deep emotions. Drama and serious thoughts. I found journals and notebooks from my mom too. Little envelopes of baby’s first haircut and photo albums and a New Kids on the Block record. High school writing assignments and a poetry book I wrote, dramatically titled Crying in the Shadows. (The original self-publishing – handwritten pages.)

I’m thinking it would be entertaining to take one random year – maybe when I was 17 – and just share journal entries here. Perhaps changing the names for the privacy of my friends who maybe don’t want to be exploited in that manner. Although I attended a rather small high school, it would be a thinly veiled attempt at privacy at best.

So yeah, the quarantine has me swinging back and forth.

I love being home – there’s so much to do.
We’ve all been alone here too long, we need other people.

I have a billion projects I want to finish.
I’m just sitting here staring into space because I’m too distracted to do anything.

Ohhhhh, what a great time to try that recipe/clean out that barn/paint that shelf.
Yes Netflix, I’m still watching.

Today we’re going to have a routine, we will have structure, enforced quiet time in the afternoon, games after dinner, write letters to our friends.
Hey, can anybody bring me breakfast in bed? I’ll let you play Xbox if you do.

I want to hear your pendulum swinging stories. (And – should I try that journal reading idea, just for fun? Ohhhh – it could be a podcast. It’s SO 1988.)

___________________________________