Good morn - er - Good afternoon, everybody. Let me explain what led to what be my first ever Friday afternoon journal entry. I slept in this morning a full hour past my alarm, which was a worst case scenario for a number of reasons. A measly hour isn’t enough extra sleep to feel any different. An hour doesn’t really take anything off of a Friday morning packed with meetings. The only thing that hour did was cut into my morning routine, and for me that time is sacred.
The dogs followed me as I flew down the stairs into the kitchen. I opened the back door with my back foot while emptying the dishwasher with one hand and filling the coffee pitcher with the other. For a moment I thought I’d be able to make it work, but no amount of frantic multi-tasking kept the minutes on the oven timer from slipping away. I accepted defeat, pouring a cup of coffee and slumping into the living room chair. I stared out the window while mentally shuffling around the blocks on my calendar.
Once a work day gets rolling, it’s hard to step out of it to write these journal entries. Even as my work wrapped up for the day, I had to physically get up and walk around, grab a different computer, and find a totally different room to sit in before I could get into journaling mode. What a weird time to write. It will work for now, but let’s just stick to weekday mornings from now on, shall we?
So Happy Friday. First things first, Marissa and I both tested negative for COVID. We caught something - probably the first of many sniffles variations that will plague us for months to come thanks to the time we’ve been isolated from the rest of society. But thankfully it wasn’t COVID. I got my results yesterday afternoon. Marissa, who had yet to receive hers, was feeling anxious.
“What if I’m positive, and that’s why it’s taking longer?” said Marissa while wringing her hands.
“How would that make any sense?” I laughed. “It’s not like it takes any longer to email you the word POSITIVE than it would to email me the word NEGATIVE.”
As usual, my remark was technically correct, but missed the mark for a lack of empathy.
Marissa got her test result this morning. We’re both feeling better today, and I think we in part have the test results to thank for that. It’s funny how once COVID is eliminated from the picture, you’re a lot less focused on the symptoms you’re feeling.
Sip. Things are finally starting to wind down. It’s been a long week of work. I’ve been in and out of zoom meetings so often that my entire life is starting to feel like one big zoom call. I only left my bedroom work cloister once to refill coffee. I passed by Rodney, still in his pajamas, molding a large mass of play-dough around his foot like a boot.
Regrettably, I was so busy I didn’t even have time to stop and ask him about this. What was he planning on doing with his play-dough boot? Did he have enough play-dough to make two of them? We’ll never know, I guess. The mysterious play-dough boot has already been cast aside.
In other news, Miles is crawling. He only crawls backwards, but that still counts in my book. Last night I was keeping an eye on him in the living room while doing a quick ride on the stationary bike. Miles was sitting in the corner playing with his toys. He flopped on his belly and started to whine.
“Oh no,” I said while pumping my legs. “You gotta figure it out on your own, dude.”
Miles grunted and struggled. He spun his body around. Pushing out with his little meaty arms, he began to wiggle backwards toward the dining room, stopping only to play with a dog toy that was lying on the ground.
Marissa came down the stairs. “Did he get over there by himself?” she asked.
“Yeah, sort of,” I laughed. “He can only go backwards.”
Marissa crouched on the floor. She clapped and cheered, trying to get Miles to crawl in her direction. Miles just pushed his arms against the ground, worming even further back. He bumped up against the fish tank. Marissa sighed and scooped him off the ground before he got any further.
It’s also been a fishtank kind of week. We’ve added two new corals to the mix. The first one, which Rodney named Blendy, was held in a FedEx facility for an extra night. By the time he arrived at our house, he was in dire condition.
Blendy was colorless and limp. He smelled like a dead, sun-dried shrimp. His slippery body was enveloped by thick boogery slime.
Marissa sent a picture to the coral shop support line. To our surprise, they told us that despite the color, smell, and spontaneously formed booger coffin, Blendy wasn’t quite dead. As instructed, we installed him in the tank. We continue to monitor the situation, but as of now Blendy is neither dead nor alive.
To join Blendy, we also brought home another coral of the same species as Champion. Rodney named him Hole Puncher.
That’s what I got today. Thanks for stopping by everyone - have a wonderful day.