I’m here. Actually, I’m in Seattle. What a frickin’ day, and I don’t even see the medical folks until tomorrow. I got a phone call en route to the train station: a friend of mine had a stroke and was rushed to the hospital by ambulance. AFAIK, she’s doing OK. Then my sister called with further eye issues. Then I found out a former student has COVID–a guy who’s invested a lot of time and money into setting up a program urging (and rewarding) people who wear masks. He’s the 8th COVID victim I know.
Anyway, I get to Seattle at noon. Can’t access hotel room until 3. I decide to get coffee and go for a walk. Seattle, the city with coffee houses on every block, and I couldn’t find one that didn’t say “Closed due to COVID.” Decided to head back to Amtrak station. Surprise! Once out, you can’t get back in.
Long story short, phone kept dying (though 50% charge), ended up walking 5.5 miles to hotel. (No phone, no UBer.) Couldn’t get into room (contactless entry, no front desk). 45 minutes and 2 phone deaths later, finally got in.
First time I’ve been to Seattle since COVID. I knew it’d been hit hard, but frick. Such a wonderful city to get slammed with 100,000+ cases and 2500 deaths.
Ugh, beige carpets. Shortly after marriage, we lived in an apartment with the only thing worse than beige carpet: carpet faded from beige to gray-beige. I’ve hated gray ever since. Also, what’s with the unending earth tone furniture trend? Lots of lovely earth-toned LR’s, but few color options. When I moved here, I got a mellow-sunshine color sofa for the LR and a pale aqua one for my study. Color!
Swampy, watched the whole video and shed a few tears. I liked your priest’s attire: business up top, casual below.
I was moved by how the children were all so worried about school. I loved the smily lady in the pink. And your words were the best of all. Thank you so much! P.S. Kept looking at the background and thinking what a b*tch to mow it must be. 
Shoe, you tell that abusive voice to knock it off. When I was feeling low post-divorce and the ex’s voice in my head kept telling me what a loser I was, I created a resume–not work and school stuff but all I’d survived and what skills it had taken to get through and past all that. Not everyone can move alone halfway across the country and carve out a new life for herself as you did, and that’s only one survival/accomplishment. Hats off to you.
Mom, what a lovely, serene room.
Boo, damn on that furnace diagnosis. I hope you find a solution you can afford.
Butters, agree that therapy might be a godsend. {{{Butters}}}