I can’t keep up with ups and downs of the COVID spikes. They’re like a roller coaster. All I know is that California remains in quarantine and that means I continue to be stuck at home with Alf and the hound.
We’re barking at each other more than usual. We’re reading more, watching more TV, and needing more sleep. By the time we emerge from this, like bears after a winter’s hibernation, we may not recognize who we are. We’ll need to introduce ourselves all over again to family and friends.
“Remember me? I’m your mother.”
“I thought you were dead,” my daughter would say.
“Not dead, just buried,” I would say.
“You look a little long in the tooth,” she would say.
“That’s better than crinkly skin and hollow eyes.”
“You’re almost there. You need to soak in a milk bath and soften up,” she would say.
“As long as it’s almond sweet with lots of rubber ducks with me.”
Calvin says, “Has someone told you you’re brain is rotting too?”