Things That Happened (Still) At Home This Week

Nowadays, I'm mostly at home, and you know what? Funny/self-deprecating stuff still happens at home.

For example . . .

I was in the bedroom when I heard my husband, Dan, wander into the kitchen.

"I'm going pee!" I called to him because . . . I can't remember why. I'm realizing now that this was a weird thing for me to do.

Dan walked to the bedroom door, and I noticed he was wearing his Bluetooth earpiece.

"Are you in a meeting?!" I asked, horrified.

He nodded, "I hope I'm still on mute."

I spent most of this week singing a song about going to the zoo. If you had been at my house (no offense, but you're not invited at this time), you would have heard the zoo song in multiple Google Meet classes and on my Facebook Live singalong.

Friday afternoon, Dan came out of the office singing—you guessed it—the zoo song.

"♪♪ How about you, you, you ♪♪"

Around December, I had a recurrence of tennis elbow. In my case, I refer to it as "musician's or conductor's elbow." This particular bout has lasted a long time. The last few days, it has radiated into my wrist and hand, making it difficult to type on a keyboard or play guitar and piano, all major parts of my work-from-home job.

I should probably see a doctor about it sometime.

"Or it could be cancer," I say on a daily basis.

"It's not cancer," is Dan's standard reply.

Friday night, I melted down.

"My hand and wrist and elbow hurt soooo much, and I can't play my instruments the way I want, and I also have canker sores on my upper and lower lips [unrelated to the tennis elbow]," I cried to Dan. "And I don't want to take up a doctor's time because other people are suffering with the COVID, and I can barely make it without my dominant arm. I'm such a wimp!"

Don't worry, everyone. The next day was better. I'll be fine.

On a happier note . . .

Dan stayed up LATE one night this week to help overseas colleagues with a project. The following afternoon, Dan's boss had his favorite beer and Crumbl cookies delivered to our house.

Dan was so surprised and frazzled by the other living beings at our door that when the delivery guy asked for his ID, Dan stared at him blankly, "What?"

"He needs to see your driver's license," I called from the couch (where I was icing my arm). "He is carding you because we look so young."

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