I was so proud of myself yesterday and earlier this week when I was calm and peaceful about life suspension, when I was baking bread every day and cooking nourishing dinners every night. I've walked four or more miles several times in the last seven days. When I asked my husband, a few days ago if he thought we'd kill each other by the end of this pandemic, he replied, "Of course not; there is no one else in this world I'd rather be sequestered with." That was a surprise, but a really nice one!

But today I'm restless and uncomfortable. I'm cranky and unfriendly. I want to strangle that husband even if he does, as he says, want to be forcibly alone with me. I hate the book I'm reading--and I picked it out! When my fellow book club members suggested at the last meeting that we skip it and go on to the next one, I was indignant. (I hadn't started the book.) Now I wish that I'd read more about the book and its author (an award-winning science fiction writer of short stories) and been less seduced by the effusive headlines of several reviews.

I've felt so virtuous up to now. Today I feel downright slothful. It didn't help that a friend reported that she was culling the books in her library and cleaning. I will be in charge of cleaning my house for the foreseeable future--for the first time in more than 10 years. Although I will get grudging help from my husband, his help will be a lick and half a promise, not a thorough doorknob cleansing, let alone swabbing floors and dusting high walls.

I went to the supermarket earlier today primarily for entertainment and social contact (even with six feet separating me from anyone I know), but also for eggs and distilled water. I carefully preplanned my trip to Target via their app, making sure that my local store had both of these staples in stock before I got in my car. There were NO eggs, and NO distilled water to be had. Safeway had both. Did this make me happy? Not today.

I'm hoping tomorrow brings a better attitude.