Morning:

The Lawn Guys are here (is that really “essential” workers?!?! to fucking BLOW THE LEAVES?) and NOW I CAN’T FUCKING LEAVE TO GET AWAY FROM THE NOISE.... yes, I know I can still technically leave, but man, I don’t want to. I think some of my packages came and I don’t want to open the door and go down the hall to the mailbox to check. I don’t have to live with decontamination protocols while living alone inside the house (you’re jealous, right? TOUCHING MY FACE BECAUSE WHO ELSE AM I GONNA CONTAMINATE) except for when I go in and out, and I don’t feel like going out.

I should try to go out today, but I don’t want to and I don’t have a whole lot of energy at the moment even though for once I am sleeping more-ish-- either 8 hours or close to. Getting dressed sounds hard. Also, where the fuck am I gonna go, the gym or the library? GTL days are over. I should clean off my patio because (a) can’t go anywhere and (b) of all times, I think the vandal who hates me is highly unlikely to go into my patio to fuck with me again now. If I do, I should post a cheerful sign saying, “Hey vandal, I coughed on EVERYTHING ON THIS PATIO, help yourself to some virus if you like!”

I had a dream about the old world (in the yarn shop) and it made me sad. I’m still randomly crying, which is a fucking joy.

Someone briefly knocked at the door and disappeared when I peeked through the keyhole: turned out the book I ordered from B&N last week arrived, packaged in cardboard. I felt like I had to take it inside the house, but am leaving it by the door for 24 hours (and then washed hands) because “virus lives on cardboard for 24 hours” or whatever the fuck it is now. I don’t even want to get into how much I didn’t want to open the door just to do that. I think the thermometer that guy sent me arrived but I haven’t gone out to check my mailbox, and Target has shipped my toothbrush heads by now so there’s another thing on the way. I don’t think I’ll be ordering much.

I am dedicating today to catching up on the CW shows, while they are still airing. Y’all, we’re not going to find out how Supernatural ends, or anything else. Or how Supergirl is going to deal with Melissa Benoist getting pregnant. It’s like the writers strike.

I did, however, finish my temperature scarf, so there’s that. I have also photographed the changes to my apartment from this. And then I started in on the Arne and Carlos knitalong, finishing the first two panels here.

Cost Plus is now closing all stores through April 3, but you can still shop online. Well, at least someone in marketing got sensible.

Mom called me while on a brief trip back to her house to pick up stuff. She tried to solve my work problems and argued with me over and over again and I kept saying, “STOP TRYING TO SOLVE MY PROBLEMS. EVERY SINGLE REASONABLE SOLUTION YOU ARE GIVING, I HAVE ALREADY TRIED AND FAILED TO GET RESULTS AT. PLEASE STOP. I DON’T WANT TO FIGHT WITH YOU” (in case you die, though she’s not sick).

Tonight I watched a show by The Actors Fund, with Kristin Chenowith and her boyfriend Josh (?) singing and being interviewed. It also featured (a) some doctor that Kristin was talking to about her asthma, (b) Kristin doing sign language she learned from Marlee Matlin, (c) Kathy Najimy flashing her bra, (d) Kristin losing it when Melissa Gilbert and her crap Internet briefly joined the show while they were talking about “Little House on the Prairie.”

Then I watched what I will refer to as ‘improv of the future.” Two improv people in Everett, WA did a phone/video/Zoom show for $12 at 9:30 online. Britney Barber seemed to be running the thing at their improv theater and then the camera would switch to Mike Murphy in his bunker...er, garage. Lots and lots of sex jokes. The questions asked of the chat audience were ONLY reasons why people would be talking from far apart, which boiled down to “tech support,” “summoning your dead wife back from the dead,” “mail order bride,” “stranded due to a blizzard” and “lost in Costco,” the latter of which ended up being my favorite since Britney wandered the entire building with her phone. She got quite nasty with that camera, including sticking her hand down through her fly at one point.

This show also coined the terms “clitcoin” and “shit mitt,” for those of you wondering about the use of so much toilet paper.

Well, I’m glad someone’s figured out how to keep doing improv in this day and age.

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