Disclaimer: this is not a rant but it has a rant-y slant. And, I’m ranting about family. 🙄 Spare me positivity and all that crap. I’ll be over it tomorrow. If you can’t handle a dose of my current reality please do yourself a favour and stop reading now. Come back tomorrow when I post about guinea pigs and cats.
I have a spot in the yard where I go sit to
feel sorry for myself soak up some sun on the days we are treated to such spring-like weather.
Isn’t it horrible? I have to do something about it.
It’s the perfect spot because a) I’m sheltered from cold breeze, b) I can keep an eye on the outdoor guinea pig cage in case the cat shows up and c) I’m alone.
This is the view I have when I’m sitting in my spot.
It seems that when we’re all annoyed with each other and everyone escapes to wherever we can in this tiny, awkward house to seek solitude, it never fails that sooner or later, someone comes and interrupts my wallowing. Typically it’s to:
- ask something (stupid, usually).
- talk (at me, usually).
- need something (stupid or irrelevant which they are too lazy to look for themselves).
Apparently I’m the only one who can answer ambiguous, irrelevant questions around here.
That sort of thing.
Normally I hide in my bedroom when I want to be alone. But the bedroom is an imperfect solution because in it reside the following items:
- the apocalypse food stash
- a second TV
- some hidden chocolate
- the attic stairs tucked into the ceiling.
So, when I go into the bedroom for solitude (or to write) it never, ever fails that that is the moment when someone needs to retrieve something from the attic.
Which is why, on sunny days, I’m out back and not in the bedroom.
Side note: It’s been sunny a few days in a row now so my next selfie may sport a slight tan. 😀
Anyway, today I was sitting outside. I was stewing about all the things I’d like to do in the yard but can’t because all the hardware stores and garden centers are closed. This made me feel more sorry for myself.
But, I was alone! The kids were inside doing whatever it is that kids do these days…
The stewing didn’t make me feel any better since I know that many people are locked-down in condos and apartments, often without balconies and terraces, sometimes with crawling babies and toddling toddlers… 😳
(I’m sorry, so sorry, if you are one of those families who has to live through this plus work from home. I remember well what it was like with young children under non-quarantine circumstances…My heart goes out to you.)
But I know this:
We’re going to have manageable days and we’re going to have crappy, irritable, murderous days.
We have to get past it somehow and endure those horrible days so this curve can finally flatten and a return to a less restrictive lifestyle can commence. The new normal is still better than this current locked-in-place-quarantined life. Right?
Even for an introverted homebody like me, I’m reaching my limits.
So while we all
endure enjoy the oppressive increased family time we try not to let the small stuff irritate and annoy us.
And we succeed, mostly. We’re all in this together! We can do this! We can overcome! Or so we keep hearing and reading…
This positive mentality works for a while. Until one day, several weeks into staying inside your home with your
maniacs loved ones, you discover that someone is incapable of using a soup ladle correctly.
Invariably a simple suggestion to pick up the pot by its handles and pour the soup into the bowl is met with a terse “don’t yell at me”.
Naturally this causes a demonstration of what yelling actually sounds like and, needless to say, it all goes south from there.
In my defense:
“Don’t yell at me” when I wasn’t yelling at all but rather muttering under my breath was not a conducive way to get me to not start yelling. In fact, I pointedly demonstrated the difference by yelling just to prove my point.
We both left the kitchen: him to go sulk at his desk and me outside to hang laundry.
Anyway I’m gorging chocolate Easter eggs. If this will cause me a sugar crash resulting in a two-hour nap, then I’ve at least killed a couple of hours of this monotonous, stupid day.
So, there you go. Family life during lock-down in all its glory.