Branch manager

  It may be Tuesday but it really feels like Monday. I've had to make lists of all the piddly things I need to get done in any given week and have even resorted to trying to plan little rewards for getting X or Y done. I am so not in the mood for any more chores. It's a struggle to remember I'm fighting a depression flare up in the middle of a pandemic. It might be a good idea to cut myself some slack. God forbid I acknowledge that despite this I am still sober and functioning.
   We haven't been the most observant homeowners when it comes to the outside stuff. In fact, if we had our head any further up our ass, our farts would sound like raspberries. I have never been a big fan of yard work, for obvious reasons. It's a necessary evil, if you don't want the neighbors calling the township. I've gotten in the habit of chunking onerous tasks. I'll set a timer on my phone and plough the lower 40 or whatever and then I can feel I've put a dent in the task at hand.
   It took a visit from my mom to point out that a normal person couldn't walk past my outside deck without getting a faceful of tree. I am largely clueless about these things as far as how long it takes to trim a tree or what tools are required. I figured I'd be out there for about a half hour and I could declare the mission accomplished. That turned out to be a Presidential level of stupid guess. I also learned how short I am when it comes to trees, too.
   The stubborn polack in me was forced to admit I needed help. My tired spouse obliged but said we needed a ladder. Out tools weren't all that up to the challenge either. Some of the branches needed a saw and I brought a fly swatter when I needed a sledgehammer! Two and a half hours and a lot of profanities later, our trees looked much better. Happily, there weren't any Wil E. Coyote style incidents to report, either. My wiped out spouse went inside and left me to deal with part two.
    There were enough branches removed to build a little piggy's house. My township will not pick up yard waste like this unless it's properly gift wrapped.  The next couple of days were spent folding, breaking, and piling said wood into roughly 3 sneaker long bundles tied up with twine. My kingdom for a fireplace! Thankfully, it was all collected without any snotty municipal love notes involved. We are safe for another year, or longer!

The Summer that almost Isn't

    It's the forty eighth of Jumaprblr and week whatever of being in this gd pandemic. I am almost jealous of the red shirts we've been seeing on the news. Note the 'almost' because I am still trying to hang onto some shred of perspective. It's increasingly difficult and so I find myself having to sit down and write out my blessings here - repeatedly.
    We are all together at home, not in a hospital. Our friends are keeping in touch and even hinting at plans for when this is over. I am taking baby steps toward my goal of getting a Master's degree. The expense is a bit of a problem but I'm working on arranging financing. We are lucky that I will be taking my time to spread the expense. The plan is to go half time so I will hopefully be able to work, too. This is assuming schools reopen in the fall. I was also hoping there's a chance that just being involved in the program could lead to a new job.
   My worrying brain won't let go of the usual Summer dread. How do I keep my kid safe and occupied without spending stupid amounts of time on a screen? If there was a camp at all this year, I'm not sure I'd feel safe sending my kid there. The whole thing stinks because I know she's lonely and misses her friends. I still struggle with the screen time overdose as a parent. This could also present some unique opportunities, too. If there won't be a camp to pay for, that money will be freed up for other things.
   There is a blessing in the sense that I am not alone in this. My spouse and I are on the same page, mostly, when it comes to the electronics addict in our home. We are lucky in that we also get some professional help from therapists. I've always said 'It's the ones who think they're just fine that really scare me.' I will take all the help I can get when it comes to parenting problems. Frequently, it's a question of just not wanting to hear the exact same advice from Mom. That, I'm pretty sure, is normal kid operating behavior. Some people never grow out of it.
     The pandemic has, oddly enough produced another benefit. My husband has let me know that he will be working from home all Summer. I understand that he will not be 'free as a bird' per se, but it's really comforting to know he'll at least be around. It helps to quell the panic in the face of all this impending 'togetherness'. It's going to be a long hot Summer. What do you do to keep your cool?

The Flare Up

   Those that know me well are aware that I am a big humor fan. I love the bad puns, Monty Python, Mel Brooks, sarcasm and a lot of dad jokes. It's roughly week 8 of this global pandemic and I have to say that my humor is sometimes wearing thin. I know it's a combination of several things. The loss of routine and a job, such as I had one, are factors. I've also been aware that my depression has flared up and I am choosing not to increase my medication at this time. That's a conscious decision on my part so I know to allow for my brain's 'misbehavior' at times. I am referring to the wallowing in self pity, the sarcasm and lack of filter which is a permanent and part of my charm.
    I am doing all, or most of the the healthy things you're supposed to be doing to actively fight this. I could, however, use a boost. A million dollar fun business idea would be just the ticket but in the meantime I'll settle for extending my circle. If I shift my focus outward, that may help. Mapping out some goals wouldn't be too bad either. I still wish there was something I could do for a humor refresh. It would be great to come up with a snarky survivors guide for this but so far it feels like I'm running on empty.
What's a sarcastic critter to do?
    Giving myself permission to, dare I say, appreciate some of this? It sounds crazy, I know. Here's what I keep missing. It feels mindnumbingly dull to plan meals and clean the house week in and week out. There's a reason you only see 'happy housewives' on tv, they're fictional. However, this is also the only time in our little family's history in which I'm not waiting for my spouse to get home or worried about getting my daughter somewhere after school. Is this ever going to happen again? I doubt it. Having them home, even this much, just might be something I will miss.
    I have yet to get comfortable with uncertainty. In fact, I had no real clue how much of a control freak I was until I lost this much control over my life. My brain keeps telling me it's ok not to know what you want to do with your life. Floundering, in and of itself, means something. It beats staying unhappy in a career until they close the lid. This isn't the first time in my life l've had a knawing sense of something rotten in Denmark. I returned an engagement ring once. That made the CPA exam look like a cake walk.  This pandemic will end and hopefully I will end up back in school for a graduate degree.
   I will start a new path, to be documented with my usual snark, stay tuned!