Texts During the Pandemic: Part II

It's all so much right now

"Hey, you. All good? It's only Day Three of Four, so am good. Day Four is when the balance tips, and everything falls apart. Surely you've noticed the pattern? For real, it's a thing. I'll text you tomorrow...you'll see."

"Ok, I'm coming over but I'll bring my own chair. And food. And mask, obviously. You do? You have masks for visitors? Jesus. How are we even friends, and do you have pink ones?"

"Day Four...how goes it? Hell in a handbasket, right?"

"I gave up fucks around mid-June, I think. Like, I was that person wearing pajama bottoms to Google meetings, and for real, I don't think I cooked a decent meal until, oh...what's today?"

"The gas station on Cannifton, past the rink, has the cutest masks."

"Are you sending your kids back, or not? I am torn. Mostly, I think I'm sending them back, but then I wake up in a sweaty panic at 2 a.m. and contemplate the what ifs....I mean, we're probably pivoting in November, anyway, so..."

"Ok, for real...can't they just 'Nope!" that dude out of the Oval Office? Aren't there laws to protect the crazy from the crazier?"

"Are curfews a thing, for you? I mean, if it's past midnight, and your kid wants to go rollerblading because it's cooler and quiet (and it's not like you're sleeping, anyway, because anxiety) you'd let him, right?"

"Wanna hang out on your porch and have therapy sessions? I'll bring snacks."

"Who goes to Alaska, anyway?"

"If kids are not being sent home for refusing to wear masks, and no one is actually obligated to report a positive COVID test, then WHAT THE HELL HAVE WE BEEN DOING THIS FOR?"

"Someone asked me if I'm still limiting screen time. Bahahahahaha! I don't know if she meant for the kids, or for me, but the answer was no. Hell, no. Nope. Facebook rabbit holes are my favourite - I fall down them, every night. That Juggling the Jenkins woman is my spirit animal."

"How is it only Day TWO, because it feels like Day Four. Stupid pandemic."

"When this is all over, I'm gonna make a quilt out of all the masks we've acquired."

"And so I went to the hospital, like, "Tada!"

"COVID test isn't terrible. I mean, childbirth was worse. And it might clear out your sinuses."

"I re-read the first piece about pandemic texts. In one, I was saying, "Omigod, they're saying this could last until JUNE." Today Me just laughed at April Me, and then I maybe cried a little."

"Honey, there is no right decision anymore. We're all just doing the best we can, where we are. That's all I've got."

"So, if 13 has to isolate, does he also have to be tested? And does 15, because he lives here, too? What about if 13's cohort has to quarantine? Do I pull 15? Because missing two weeks of only one subject is like missing 4,579 days. My brain hurts."

"On average, since March, how often have you shaved your legs? Like, more than three times? And if so...why?"

"Something I've noticed: I don't hear with my ears. I hear with my eyes. You, too?"

"Came home from work to a silent house. Kids were fast asleep, at 9pm. Apparently, six months of being vampires has finally caught up to them."

"There are 29 kids in 13's class. Twenty fucking nine! I'd feel sorry for his teacher in a good year, but this year? I am totally sending whiskey."

"I might be a little disappointed if the aliens haven't arrived by Christmas. They were due in July, according to Facebook."

"I still love you, from here. Be safe."


Liz is 46, and isn't sure how that happened, exactly. She is raising two amazing humans, and isn't entirely sure about that, either, but is mostly loving it. And them. And coffee