I’ll try to make this short.
/In early March I spent a ton of money on a fresh haircut and highlights. Then I went into self imposed isolation and only my husband and the Amazon van driver got to appreciate the effort. Turns out it was the worst haircut I ever had and I had to look at it and try to ignore it every single day since. Now it’s grown way past the stage where I should have had at least two more hair cuts and now I look like Mary Berry if Mary Berry was a zombie.
/Last week, I got up early on Grass Cutting Day and went out to pull weeds from around the outside of the pool screen so I wouldn’t be humiliated when the grass cutters got here. Long story short, when I fell backwards, I landed on my butt like a baby just learning to walk and then my top half continued on it’s own slammed backwards onto the wet grass. My brain felt like it came loose from my skull for a while but that only lasted until that evening.
[Interlude: I couldn’t get up by myself and no one was around so I had to wait one hour and fifteen minutes sitting in the wet grass and watching surface mud sink deeper into my pale blue terry cloth slippers until my neighbor came out for his coffee and came over to help me up. By that time I was completely soaked and my t-shirt was sagging but mercifully and by rare coincidence I was wearing a bra so no free show for him. He was probably looking at my hair anyway. UNCOMBED zombie Mary Berry.]
/I thought that was the end of it until the next morning when I took that lovely first sip of coffee and jumped up right to the moon. Turns out that the double impact with Mother Earth meant that my teeth banged together two times , cracked one or some molars not sure yet and exposed a nerve. It was so painful that I didn’t even care that I looked like zombie Mary Berry.
/Later that day, I potted up a baby flapjack plant which is my new favorite plant and took it over to leave on his front door step to thank him for lending a helping hand.
/On the weekend, a week-known local musician lives on my street and he got his band together to give a free concert in his driveway for the neighborhood. I’ve been strict about keeping my husband well away from the threat of contagion all this time, but he kept bringing it up and looking at me hopefully so see if it would be okay. Meanwhile, the street is a short cul-de-sac with only 7 houses on each side, so I spent a few days calculating how many individuals who believe that the stay-at-home mandate in Florida didn’t apply to them would be roaming around with neither mask nor respect for social distancing. But when the time came we made a plate of snacks, brought a cocktail for him and a bottle of red for me out to the end of our drive way and settled in.
/It was so much worse than I thought it would be – kids were careening around on bikes and skateboards, half naked teens were standing on the cabs of pick up trucks and there were more motorcycles and golf carts filled with slap happy adults then I could ever imagine would be in this neighborhood. Yet, we felt adequately isolated on our own patch of cement sidewalk compared to the roiling mass of celebrants who were dancing in the cul-de-sac (where the free margarita bar was located.
/Overall, it was good. My husband was so happy and he didn’t even mind very much when I got halfway down the wine bottle and started channeling my inner Lucy Ricardo by explaining something to him that had to be urgently explained right then and there while pouring another glass for myself and he ended up partially covered in a pretty nice 2017 Malbec.
/Anyway, that’s what’s been happening around here. You?
Cripes Suzette 