Licorice lasted about 2 weeks on her new glaucoma regimen before she started squinting again, and back to the vet ho$pital we went. They put her on a third eye drop, and so far, so good. So she now gets three different eye drops three times a day, but also they have to be given at least 5 minutes apart, so each dosing period is referred to as the Parade of Eye Squirts, but we've all acclimated. She doesn't mind at all. ("That's because she never sees it coming," explained Monkey with an arched eyebrow, proving that his comedic delivery remains unrivaled.) Chickadee and Sunny are coming home...
I did not mean to leave you with the depressingness of Duncan's demise for quite so long. I apologize. We had a rough week there and then gradually settled into being able to reference and talk about him fondly and without tears. It helped that Licorice has taken to having periodic accidents in the house (SHE IS JUST TRYING TO HELP) and Monkey loves to proclaim that it's "The ghost of Duncan!" peeing on the floor. So. Who knows? Maybe it is Ghost Leaky Duncan. I feel like haunting us with puddles would be on brand for him, honestly. And then... the second half of the summer seemed to rev up...
Hello! How's everyone holding up? How are we handling... you know... everything? Still hanging on? Good, good. Us too. Today is day 7,391 of the plague, right? My hair clippers---which I've had for so long I really don't know how long I've had them---started making a really weird noise when I used them last month, and after giving Chickadee and Sunny haircuts while they were visiting (more on that in a bit) I discovered that I'd given Sunny terrible razor burn on her neck while I was tidying up at the end of her cut. I felt awful. (She, true to form, was all, "It's fine! No big deal!"...
My father texted me yesterday, and I need you to understand that my father only types on a regular keyboard with two fingers, so texting---even worse---is for him a laborious and unfathomably slow process. I knew it must be something very urgent. He texted to say I need to blog to "protect his sanity." I was tempted to let him know I'll miss him if I'm all that's standing between him and the brink, but instead I told him I'd try as soon as I had some time. Because, you know, time is weird right now. Also I was on a Zoom meeting when he texted, so technically I did NOT have the time right...
Time has ceased to have meaning, right? It's not just me? When I sell things on Poshmark (woefully infrequently, these days, because who needs clothes when we're all hanging out at home in our sweats?) and get them packaged up, I always include a thank-you note. Because I store my Posh stuff in the room where Monkey hangs out and plays video games, it's typical for me to ask him to tell me the date, as he is surrounded by devices and can usually find it faster than I can. This morning I was packing something up and asked him to tell me the date while I was writing out my little thank-you...
So much has happened since I was last here! Hahahahaaaaaaaa. Just a little bit of shelter-in-place humor for you. I'M HILARIOUS. Actually, a few things have happened. First of all, our moron governor decided that certain businesses could open back up again. This is measured and sensible, yes? Of course! But then you find out that these essential businesses of which he speaks are... salons, nail places, and bowling alleys. And even if you don't live in Georgia, you've heard about this, because we're now The State That Spawned a Hundred Memes, starting with a few dozen riffs on how it's time...
Am I still sewing? I'm still sewing. I've lost exact count, but I'm right around 300 masks or so at the moment. We've done five bulk donations and I've sent masks all over the country to friends and family and pretty soon I'm going to learn how to make masks for the dogs. (That's not true. They've barely survived the indignity of winter sweaters; I wouldn't subject them to masks.) I have twice now been offered money for 100 masks and 1) I am still sort of terrible at this, my sewing is a little, uh, free-form, plus 2) the whole idea was to donate, so the first time I turned it down flat and...
... through the quarantine. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life has lost all mean(ing). Oh, hello! I was just slowly going insane on account of I've been home for approximately seven years and also in the... less than a month... since I last wrote, I've sewn somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 face masks. I would love to tell you I'm getting better at it, but instead I will tell you the truth, which is that I am getting better at swearing a little less each time the machine jams or I otherwise manage to screw up somehow, and most of the masks I make actually look like masks. So I guess...
Haha, remember how a couple of weeks ago I was all WOOOO CORONAVIRUS I'M DISTRACTING MYSELF? Welp. I've now been "socially distant" for eight days (not that I'm counting...) and as of yesterday we've gone from "social distancing" to "mandatory shelter-in-place" so hooboy, I do like hanging at home, but I don't so much like the whole feeling-like-if-I-don't-we-all-die version of it. We now have local friends who are sick and waiting on the results of their COVID-19 tests. Shit, as they say, is getting real. 0/10, would not recommend. In the meantime, two out of four members of Casa Mir are...
