On the last day of 2020, I would like to share part of my life on my blog. 2020 has not been bad for me -far from it. I made interesting discoveries and my workrooms were messier than ever. I learned to sew face masks, made my husband my sewing apprentice, and before we knew what hit us we were were sewing, selling, and donating masks left and right. I started to collect bras.
There is a very special place that has no particular choice of race, of color, creed or religious faith. No sex or age discrimination just a firm and solid determination to invite you into the dancing hall where beds are lined up against the wall and nice people offer more than any to make you feel like you’re in the Land of Plenty.
It’s day #7 of our self-isolation after my husband tested positive for COVID-19. “Curse words fail me,” I texted to a friend the other day, and while it’s true, we are in good spirit. We managed to put our Christmas tree up and as always, the work was shared fair and square. My husband brought the tree down, which took him about five minutes and I spent three hours stringing the lights and placing the ornaments.
SARS-CoV-2 RNA detected! There it was, something positive this year I didn’t want to hear. My husband went Sunday in the morning to get his COVID test done -part of his pre-op for Thursday’s procedure- and three hours later an incoming message informed us of the unexpected. His test came back positive.
So Trump has won the election, but can’t prove it because the evidence shows otherwise. Nevertheless, he filed one lawsuit after the next -because the name of the game is denial and he plays it well for decades. It keeps his fanatic fans and followers busy hoping and dreaming of a time when democracy will be dead once and for all and a new area of everlasting Republican Plutocracy will transport the wealthy 1% of our population straight into paradise.
Yesterday, because I rushed it even though I should know better, I stapled myself. It’s fascinating how it works. The staple coming out of my pneumatic staple gun, goes into my finger -not all the way, but deep enough to make an impact and then…nothing.
Today in the morning we celebrated his 1st BAB (Birthday after bypass), the first of hopefully many more to come.
Last year right about the same time I am writing this, I was hiding in the chapel of the hospital, which amused a lot of people for months. No, the sky did not fall down on me, neither was I hit by lightning. It simply was the quietest place I could find, far away from nurses and doctors I was able to listen to music during a long time of waiting.
My husband got up early today. I overslept a bit, opened my eyes slowly. It was cold in the bedroom, still dark outside. I sat up and turned on the news. My daily routine. I leave the TV on until I go downstairs. My daily dose of negativity, served in the morning ice-cold, to get it over with.