Just so you know, I wear shoes until around four and then I switch to slippers. Because, structure?
On dog walks, of course, I wouldn’t dream of wearing my black velvet loafers. I wear sneakers. On days like today they get wet in pretty short order, but I still prefer them to my clunky waterproof ankle boots.
I get dressed upon waking. That’s a routine I’ve had for years, in part because I bathe in the afternoon and not first thing like most people. It seems more important than ever to stick to that. Sometimes, I take my bra off after dinner. With some satisfaction, I’ll fling it over my head in the direction of the staircase. That’s a tiny departure from routine.
Finn, in his own manner of sticking to routines, ate through the pocket of K’s good Gortex rain jacket two days ago — prompted only by the residual smell of treats. Damn! Do you know how expensive Gortex is? The only jacket I’ve had made of the stuff used to belong to one of the boys.
K ordered a replacement, the SAME DAY, which in case you don’t know, is a big departure for him. No shopping around. Quarantine cutting through the usual structures about spending on self? Maybe.
At some point in this mask making process, I’ve decided, I’ll ask for donations. If for nothing else, to cover the cost of thread, which as my fellow stitchers know, is not cheap!
Also, depending on my stamina, I may ask people to sponsor masks for nursing homes to the tune of $13 a pop. Five residents in a Newton nursing home died this week at a place that’s been asking for masks.
I may make EIGHT today and still have time for afternoon edits. Starting Netflix series “The Stranger” for entertainment — pretty good, so far. Thankfully K is not like me. I cannot write with background talking or music playing, but he can. Ours is an open floor plan.
Yesterday, a friend who is also my writing teacher called from the edge of Crystal Lake, where she sat and needed to talk to someone besides her family. It was in the 60’s and beautiful.
I mumbled about how mask-making was interfering with working on my manuscript — how it was a conflict.
“Dee Mallon?” she quipped. “In conflict?”
I laughed. “Yeah. Who would I be without my conflicts?”
I’d like to know.
Such good writing is emerging from this peculiar time. One of today’s prompts was to write about homesickness.
Here’s a little of what I wrote:
Out on the street, I would wander in a drapey tank top, necklaced, smiling, hugging every passerby, strangers and friends alike. Heads bent toward each other, the smell of skin every time like going home. …