Well, these are shitty days. The boredom and loneliness are annoying, but the dread—the fear—that something far worse is coming is often hard to bear. Rather that get glum about it, Adam and I keep reminding ourselves what a run of luck we've had: in particular, selling that damn house in the nick of time and being sequestered in a pretty wonderful place. Knock on wood.
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During dinner the other night, Adam was talking about current events, a.k.a. the many ways in which the world is royally fucked. So I sighed.
"This really weighs heavily on you, doesn't it?"
"Sometimes," I said. "But that sigh was because I just realized that we'll be sitting across from each other like this, and talking about this, for the next eight weeks, and that's if we're lucky."
To his credit, he neither yelled, cried, nor locked himself in the bathroom.
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Early on, I made a list of chores for whenever I got bored. First on the list was vacuuming the sofa, but that sounds strenuous and depressing, so I did everything else instead. I rearranged the bookshelves (in a room we only ever pass through), and discovered that they needed to be dusted, so I did that. I vacuumed the pool table, which I only ever use to fold laundry. I weeded the backyard. And I've laundered everything that can be laundered; if something falls on the floor, I'm off to the laundry room. I think the sofa is next.
And I'm getting an inordinate amount of satisfaction from using up stuff we've had a round for a while—liquid soap in a guest room, a small amount of obscure pasta, etc. I suspect doing so makes me feel like I have a better sense of what I actually have in the house. And, as with the chores, it grants a sense of order in a world tilting toward chaos. Anyway, I recommend it.
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Adam: Is the hat another birthday gift for me?
Me: [Pause.] Yes.
Adam: Thank you!
Me: It's nothing. You gave it to me for my birthday.