We're all in this blah, blah, blah

What would Diane Fürstenberg do? More importantly, what is she doing right now?

Well, here we are where we never planned to be.   You are living your life and then one day, BOOM, you're in house arrest.  No, no, not that kind of house arrest, but Sheltering in Place. 

So we, like you, are doing what we can do to be compliant with rules for the new plague.  A trip out of solitary is for necessary things, only.  No nightclubbing, and alas, gayety is in short supply.

We all have to do our part.  I tell myself all the time. 

It could be far worse.  I could have been a member of the White House Press Corps, trapped in a room with the Mouth Breather in Chief.

Meanwhile, the husband is working from home for the next eight weeks.

That's eight weeks.  Count them:

Week 1
Week 2
Week 3
Week 4
Week 5
Week 6
Week 7
Week 8

That's MAY!

I love having him around, but Cookie needs alone time.

The dogs have been promoted to co-workers.

Rocky is in his bed cubicle licking himself.  I will have to write him up.

Kevin is on guard in the solarium reporting, in dog speak, in on every dog walking by the house.

We were planning an office banquet tonight, but alas, the roast is as frozen as a concrete block in winter, so it will have to thaw in the fridge overnight. Plaques and awards will be given out.

And our BIG plans for this weekend?  Cleaning the basement.  Yes, I know it sounds rash, but that's us - madcap.

Hang in their folks.  After that presser today when the occupant of the Oval Office went ape shit at NBC's Peter Jackson, it's going to be a long, long, long couple of weeks ahead of us.

Remember people: A normal person knows a question is a question.  A psychotic adult sees questions as assaults on their character and they attack any threat, which is everything.  

Cookie