- “Be creative.” I would argue that my creativity for handling a crushing mountain of fucked-upness is the extent to which my brain can go. I have not written much, I have not started large projects, I have not built anything, I… I got plants. That’s as creative as it’s getting around here.
- “Listen to music!” Weirdly, you would think this would be a solace. It might be, but I have yet to figure this out. I am one of those
extreme weirdos sensitive motherfuckerscompletely mundane people who can’t really work and listen to a podcast at the same time, or really handle any format of 2 or more noises emitting from a device simultaneously (i.e., someone watching a video on their phone while watching TV) so while I probably CAN listen to music while I work, I just haven’t due to my 2-noise issues. Working on changing this.
- Get “ripped”. Suffice it to say that we are lucky lucky lucky (like Ripley at the end of Alien lucky) that I make it out of bed every morning, oozing onto the floor like a puddle of soupy instant mashed potatoes, much less do any kind of rigorous physical workout. Edit: I am kind of lying here. This was true the first 3 months of the pandemic. It is still true for how I wake up, but I have discovered in the last 2 or 3 months that riding this open-air dresser with a wheel on it is pretty invigorating for not wanting to sleep all the time. Also, kettlebells. Also, husband that knows what is good for both of us. And while the result isn’t “ripped”, at least I feel better. Except when I do my 90 seconds of planking. I do not feel better right then.
- Get a new hobby! Look, I have one hobby and that is fucking staying alive. All my original, in-use hobbies are what other people call “life skills”: Cooking, plants, reading. These are not hobbies. These are just things one does when one runs out of Netflix/Prime/Hulu/Disney ideas. I have tried some new things in all of my life skills categories, but I dare not knit. Or macramé. Or, you know, try art of any kind. The world is not ready for my “art.”
- Drink enough water. Well, this is true with or without a pandemic. I am improving this, but to tell me that store-brand LaCroix does not have the same value as regular water will mean death. I can drink that shit like there’s no tomorrow. It’s regular-ass boring-ass water for which I have no use. My husband keeps trying. I fill up my ridiculously large vessel and attempt, but really, it’s just for show.
Here’s the thing, good readers: You don’t have to do fuck-all but keep on livin’ as Jen Kirkman would tell you. Right now, that should be of utmost importance. Stay safe. Wear a mask even if you don’t know anyone who has gotten sick. Stay in if you can, because the virus is still out there, doing horrible damage to good people. You are not doing it for you. (Well, it is kind of for you, TBH.) Do it for the millions of people that aren’t lucky lucky lucky like Ripley. How lucky Ripley actually was is a whole ‘nother post.
Do it because you believe in basic human kindness. Do it for your Gammie? Your neighbor?
Me? Because I swear, I am going to get through this. So will you.