Housekeeping

I'm just going to bang something out here (a BLOG POST, shut up) because I'm feeling antsy that I haven't, even though I've been meaning to clean the en suite our bedroom all day, but instead I carried a bunch of stuff from the main floor to the basement and did some laundry and got some groceries and went to the liquor store and then came home and started cooking and then watched two episodes of Ozark with Matt and now I will probably end up cleaning the bathroom while he's trying to sleep, but goddammit I will not go to sleep one more time with that bathroom uncleaned!

Ha ha, I wrote that two days ago and then gave up and went and cleaned the bathroom. Fortunately Matt was working late, so I didn't keep him awake.

I've mostly climbed out of the slough of despond, partly because it had run its course and was clearly not helpful, partly because of the headaches from all the crying. I still think that, of the still-employed locked down, the children and young adults have it the hardest, and I reserve my right for me and them to be mournful over that. I do, however, fully recognize that it is a much better situation than being shipped off to the beaches of Normandy or sold into child slavery, and many children and young adults all over the world have it worse just in the normal course of things. And no one is going to argue that the Animal Crossing and Netflix doesn't mitigate the hardship. So. Back to dealing.

I came across a GQ article on Twitter called "Top Sheets are a Scam". It begins "a top sheet is the giftwrap of bedding: it looks nice, but you have to throw it away." It further claims that top sheets never stay remotely in place, and that they make the bed look messier than using just a duvet.

Clearly it was a throwaway piece, but it made me wonder how many people don't use top sheets. My kids don't, which bugged me for a while, but Eve is fastidious enough and Angus's bedroom is in the basement and thus ignorable enough that I got over it. I grew up using a top sheet and making the bed with hospital corners - I don't tuck it in at all now, but I cringe at the thought of not using one. I don't like touching the duvet - not because I think it's dirty, but because I feel like I'll get it dirty. I change my sheets once a week and still wash the duvet every couple of months.

So do people who don't use a top sheet wash the duvet way more often? Do they not feel like the duvet is sweaty and gross? I mean, I shower every night before going to bed, but presumably not everyone does. I never thought of myself as a particularly peaceful sleeper, but do top sheets really get that unruly?

This also gave me a happy memory of when I was in Morocco with my friends Holly and Janet (HI HOLLY AND JANET). The sheets were always tucked in to a punishing degree, so every night Janet and I would get into bed and Holly would go around the room yanking out the tucked ends so we could move.

My arm is still incredibly painful, so THANKS A LOT genial funny Youtube physiotherapists, you made me think I could cure myself and it was BULLCRAP. I'm sort of enjoying cleaning my own house except for the painful repercussions, and I'd really like to do some painting, but it's difficult when my dominant arm is a traitor.

Angus's summer baseball season got cancelled a couple of days ago. We were expecting it, but it still hurts - it was a minor league that he was recruited for in New York and it was going to be a lot of pretty high-level baseball, and both he and Matt were really looking forward to it. We're debating whether it makes more sense for him to get a job or whether we should use his available labour to do stuff around the house.

I keep thinking that I'll be okay and he'll be okay as long as he can go back in the fall. But he might not be able to, so we'll have to be okay no matter what. I also keep telling myself that we don't know what's going to happen, and unexpected good things could happen as well as expected bad things. There won't be a vaccine by fall, but there might be better treatments or tests. My usual M.O. is expecting the worst so I'm pleasantly surprised if the worst doesn't happen, but that's not really working right now, because expecting the worst impairs my ability to function. Even before this, some nights I would lie in bed obsessing about things and then tell myself "why not just think something good will happen?"

Pictures of Eve making Lucy do a puppy dance and a family selfie on Angus's birthday - last week he shaved his beard, which I love, into a horrible moustache, which I loathe, but I try really hard not to tell my kids what to do with their hair or clothes and it's a pandemic, so, shrug emoji. (But ugh, it's terrible).