I know so many of us have lost count like I have on the number of days we have been living, working and entertaining at home. I was on a Zoom happy hour and someone said it was 5 months. I don't think it has been that long, but I honestly don't know. Maybe 4? My brain has gone limp, and it no longer is able to process time the way it used to. Now, the measurements are not in days or weeks, but my time is now tracked by meals. I am considering developing my own holidays for the days that I actually cooked something particularly edible. Yesterday, September 1, 2020, might become Blueberry Pie Day, at least in my household.
You probably are unaware, but I spend a good portion of my time lunging and squatting all around my home. I have weights and exercise bands for added resistance. I also have an actual squat machine that I’m presently failing to use. I declare war weekly (sometimes daily) on my backside. To be completely forthcoming, I am not much of my fan of what’s below my waist to just above my knees. I invest a lot of time thinking deeply about how to shape this mess into something I can live with peacefully and happily ever after. Unfortunately, this is not a love story.