Author: Rene

So last night I had a bit of trouble falling to sleep. I learned from the news that snacking is on the rise during this pandemic episode. Seriously? I could have reported that first-hand, as it’s probably why I was wide awake at 2 a.m. Too much sugar, perhaps? Alas – Disney to the rescue!

I called the Disney Bed Time Hotline. 877-7-Mickey. Another report on my local station informed me that if my kids were having trouble going to sleep – call the hotline for free! A favorite character would tell them good night. Well, I was having trouble, I’m somebody’s kid, and I’m always up for a freebie. I called.

I chose “Goofy” as my good night companion. Four more characters to go! Today – I send the snacking, packing. By the way – the hotline is free until the end of the month. (You’re welcome.)

Driving by my neighbor’s chicken coop made me want to build one. They are awfully cute! I just don’t want the chickens. Chatting with my sister we were reminded of our grandmother’s chicken-raising days.

First of all – I hated the hen house. I was a total five-year old wimp. Gathering eggs was just too emotionally traumatic for me. The hens would peck and pester and I was scared. (I did like the wire egg-gathering basket though. It was cute!) My brave grandma would come out after I returned eggless and grab those hens and throw them off their roosts. I never quite got tough enough for that job, even when I turned six years of age.

However, watching Grandma butcher chickens was pretty exciting! She could wring their necks with her bare hands and properly wield an ax to chop off their heads. I found a headless chicken running around to be quite entertaining. Not so entertaining was the job of pulling the quills out of the skin after the birds were de-feathered. Ick. But – we were allowed to help and that was good enough for us little kids.

Glad we talked through this one. Everything about chickens is cute – except the chickens. I think I’ll keep the memories and toss the structure. My husband will be happy to know we are not building the chicken coop I pinned from Pinterest.

Math skills were required yesterday as we – for the third or fourth time – calculated what we need to replace our rickety weathered deck. Actually, it was probably the tenth time, with my husband doing most of the work, and me just throwing a wrench in the process occasionally. (“Let’s do it this way! It would look so cool!”) Of course, Mother Nature threw a bigger wrench into the mental gymnastics.

This would have been easier if I hadn’t been exasperated with having done another tissue-filled load of laundry. Seriously? I didn’t even had a pocket in the load. Back to square one on vacuum duty. At least it was a diversion from the taxing chore of converting feet to inches and adding columns of single digits. The thought “Prevagen” popped into my head.

It was a good exercise, and the man of the house braved the elements to continue moving this project forward. And if anyone talks to my brother, remind him that he’s welcome to take his vacation here, preferably after the shipment of decking arrives.

I know today is Thursday and I’m supposed to vacuum on Thursdays, but I did it YESTERDAY!

First of all, I failed to vacuum after the tissue-in-the-dryer disaster, so I had to remedy that situation. That was a well-traveled business, reaching the outermost corners of the house and invading every room. Maybe there was more than one tissue at play? Anyway, as I did my electric sweeping I thought of a challenge! If you have the old-fashioned corded vacuum, such as mine, can you properly vacuum without holding the cord in your left hand or throwing it over your shoulder? I can’t.

Perhaps I should have opted for cordless when we purchased this model last year, but that would have meant storing it in the garage for recharging on the wall. I just know that the further a cleaning tool is from where it will be used, the likelihood of its frequent use dwindles. Thursdays would have lost their meaning.

So now I’m free today! What shall I do? Oh right. We get to shovel snow again!

Tuesday morning I went on a scavenger hunt, recognizing that I had become lax in my generally organized visual accoutrement. Scattered throughout my abode are eight pair of Dollar Store reading glasses, each in their proper home. I am pretty good about keeping those investments where they belong.

The realization came to me that things were getting out of hand yesterday. As I was applying my nighttime moisturizer in the a.m. I became aghast. What was happening? I rectified the situation and reapplied sunscreen, slightly shaken by my mishap. Moving on to the laundry needs, I proceeded to cleanse our clothing without checking the pockets. Usually an errant tissue will survive unscathed, having super-ply thickness or lotion or something in it. No such luck.

I went to shake the clothes, dispersing little white blobs everywhere, and recognized I needed my glasses to wipe down the inside of the machine and unclog the pores in there. Aha! Where were the kitchen table pair of readers, junk drawer inhabitants, or bedroom nightstand pair usually on top of my head? Thus, the scavenger hunt.

All have been returned to their proper places, most having been found partying with the tissues in various pockets.

This comic reminded me of the energy crisis back in the ‘70s. My parents closed off what we called the “living room” back then. It had gorgeous hardwood doors that you could draw together. Closing off that room from heat resulted in a chilly atmosphere where you could actually see your breath! It also resulted in piano practice that no one else had to endure – which may have been a bonus feature for my dad.

On a non-energy crisis day, my sister and I would lay in wait for Dad to come home from work. When he entered the house, we’d strike up, “Hail to the Chief,” most notably. We thought we were pretty funny. Of course, we would “pound on those keys” with other renditions. This could be why my father went outside to garden so often, now that I think about it?

Just a reminder that sometimes a crisis provides a silver lining.

(Forwarded from two friends – not my witticisms, nor photo. It’s 15 degrees, snowing, and cold! My brain is frozen. Here you go…)

Half of us are going to come out of this quarantine as amazing cooks. The other half will come out with a drinking problem.

I used to spin that toilet paper like I was on Wheel of Fortune. Now I turn it like I’m cracking a safe.

I need to practice social-distancing from the refrigerator.

PSA: every few days try your jeans on just to make sure they fit. Pajamas will have you believe all is well in the kingdom.

Home schooling is going well. 2 students suspended for fighting and 1 teacher fired for drinking on the job.

Quarantine Day 5: Went to this restaurant called THE KITCHEN. You have to gather all the ingredients and make your own meal. I have no clue how this place is still in business.

Day 5 of home schooling: One of these little monsters called in a bomb threat.

I’m so excited — it’s time to take out the garbage. What should I wear?

I hope the weather is good tomorrow for my trip to Puerto Backyarda. I’m getting tired of Los Living room.

Day 6 of Home schooling: My child just said “I hope I don’t have the same teacher next year”…. I’m offended.

My friend was musing yesterday while we chatted at our acceptable distance. “What are we going to say we did with our time when this is over?” I was considering the fact that I could have learned a new language by now – but haven’t. And those salsa lessons didn’t pan out.

So, what knowledge am I acquiring?

• I can sew a mask in under ten minutes now
• 26 gnomes is enough
• I don’t necessarily enjoy cleaning door knobs daily
• Most of my hats are black
• Zoom reminds me of the Brady Bunch intro
• We can still travel online to beautiful cathedrals and churches for Mass
• Naps can be an essential part of a routine
• Squirrels will always find their way to our home
• Postal delivery people are risking their lives on a lot of junk mail
• Laundry never goes away