Pandemic Prose

3 Things I’m Giving Myself a Pass On

Grilled Cheese Sandwich

Dear Reader:

Grilled cheese. Yes, please! I’ve always been highly susceptible to visual temptations of food. My husband is kinda used to it. Goes something like this: I decide what I’m going to eat before we get to the restaurant. I tell him all about it. We follow the hostess to our table and on the way I peek at the plates of other diners. This precipitates a quick conversation with our server immediately after she’s introduced herself.

“What’s that lady over there eating?!”

I see it. I want it.

Alas dinner out seems a distant dream for us. But, we’ve still got a t.v. and I just watched a commercial for Kraft American cheese. You could almost smell the melting butter and hear the crackle of a grilled cheese sandwich browning in the fry pan. I haven’t had a grilled cheese sandwich in a very long time, so why not? This brings me to my first bullet point.

* My weight. I’ve gained about ten pounds since the shutdown began. Seems I’m not alone. I spoke with two friends this week who both said they’d gained “7” pounds. Seven? I didn’t say it, but I suspect they really meant “10,” but just weren’t ready to go public yet. Another friend described herself as “fluffy,” adding that it was “okay.” I agree. I’ll watch that I don’t get tooooooo fluffy, but I bought some really cute elastic waist, navy silk-like joggers from Target and they look pretty good!

*My productivity. Some days I’ve got it and some days I don’t. Every drawer and cupboard in my kitchen has been emptied and cleaned and re-filled with only the things I need. I just love looking at my clean kitchen. But, my linen closet is overflowing and my basement would terrify you. If I’d really put my mind to it, my entire home would be pristine by now. I’ve had exactly 101 days to conquer my clutter…but it’s just clutter, after all. Nothing urgent.

*My judgements. Yep, I’m judging people…everyday. My husband and I were having our evening cocktail on the porch last night when a neighbor walked by aided by a cane on both sides. Her name is Lorraine and she’s 90 years old. She lives in the mother-in-law suite of her son and daughter in law’s home around the corner from us. She had to stop cold in her tracks as a group of people, without masks, surrounded her, walking around her and allowing not more than a few inches of space. I nearly jumped four feet down from our porch and onto our lawn to intervene. I would have. I could have. I didn’t, but I made a judgment about that group of people. And I’m not ashamed.

So, that sums it up. I’m fluffy, unproductive and judgmental. I’m okay with that.

Michele