I’m on my last few days of self-isolation after being in close contact with someone who tested positive for Covid, and by about midday today I was done. With everything: self-isolating, work, working from home, the pandemic, screen time, brushing my hair (as you can probably tell)…everything was stupid and I was in a mood.
By about 3:30pm I was feeling a bit better after having a nice long chat with my manager and a massive rant about a work doofus who I won’t name because I still like my job. More importantly, we were both able to just vent about how crazy life is right now, and how everyone’s kind of losing their shit and although this doesn’t make me a very nice person I took comfort in the fact that for once I don’t feel like I’m watching people live normal lives while my head is caving in. Everyone’s head is caving in.
After that chat, I went and checked my mailbox where lo and behold a package arrived! This happens so infrequently that the exclamation mark is entirely necessary. Inside the big brown envelope was a belated Christmas gift from a friend: a beautiful Montblanc notebook with artwork from one of my favourite books, The Little Prince. I actually gasped when I saw it and that is what my face looked like about 30 seconds afterwards.
I already thought today was a good day after that, but then my friend Dan who runs EDEMO dropped off a chocolate cake for me. And because I’m self-isolating I don’t even have to do the polite thing and share the cake. I also got candy.
Normally I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. Life isn’t normal right now. Cake and candy was the metaphorical water in a desert that I didn’t know I needed. Dan is the metaphorical Marvel character I didn’t know I summoned (Captain Cake & Candy, obviously).
Salvation also had a savoury side, and I have to get to bed soon because I can’t handle any more unexpected surprises today:
Montreal steak spice is a Canadian thing that costs an arm and a leg to acquire here in the UK. The thing is, you can roast just about any vegetable with Montreal steak spice and it will taste like heaven. So I do, and I’m running out.
I was so moved by the deliciousness of my latest batch of veg that I had to tell Twitter about it. Including a cheeky nudge that I needed some shipped to me because at the rate I’m going I’ll be out of it very soon.
My friend Heather, who loves to cook, unexpectedly heeded the call for the mightiest of spice blends and added it to her food shop so she could send it to me. In the UK. From Canada.
Heather = hero.
So now it’s almost 9pm and instead of feeling like my soul is being crushed by a giant hippopotamus, I’m all floaty and grateful and marvelling at how lucky I am to have such kind and caring friends.
It will take very little to tip me back into mind-melting rage or inertia of doom. I’ve got three more days of not being able to walk off my frustration, I’m hormonal and even the Earth is freaking out.
Those things are fleeting. Friendship isn’t.