Well it’s day four of quarantine. Day two of treatment that my body is tolerating, so three more days to go. If you missed the last blog, I have whooping cough.
Yesterday was spent making soup, yelling at the dogs who seem to have developed a passion for nonsensical barking, crocheting, washing Harry’s bottom and sulking.
But I really have been trying to make the best of it.
Every time I am on the nebuliser, I am crocheting. So far I have made six beanies. My GP has assured me they won’t be contaminated, but I’m Glen 20-ing them anyway. There’s a reason for this, but I’ll tell you more about that in a later post, because it deserves a post totally dedicated to that reason.
I have a scratchy bit on two of my toenails and it is making me very frustrated.
The cat killed a mouse and ate it on the front verandah.
Oh hang on. Making the best of it.
So, I didn’t have to feed the cat dinner that night, and I’ve got toenails, yay!
Look, I know it could be much worse. And for many other people, it really is much worse.
But as true as that is, it’s also kind of invalidating. Because this sucks. But I’m trying to let go of the things that shit me and frustrate me, and I’m trying to focus on doing what I need to. What I need to do? Breathe. What I want to do? Visit my family and watch movies and make a bed on the lounge and snuggle up and have a steady supply of beverages and pity lavished upon me. I want to make sure my beloved gets Friday Night Pie Night and I want to play with the dogs in the park. I want to fix my toenails.
And then! Then, in the midst of all of this, I stumbled across a video that just filled my heart up with joy.
This is Ethan. According to the page I saw his video on, when this was recorded Ethan was 6 years old. He has Autism, and apparently brilliant parents. Doesn’t this just make you want to weep with joy?
You go, Ethan. You’re a bloody legend.