Last September, The New York Times ran a feature on what people had thought they might do with their time when the COVID-19 quarantine hit and what, five months later, they'd actually done.
I just finished writing an article for Chatter magazine in which I asked local people what they thought they might accomplish when the country first went into lockdown at the beginning of the pandemic.
Facebook just fed me a memory from five years ago. It was a picture of my kitchen undergoing renovations. The cabinet doors were off. The tile splashguard had been removed, exposing a swath of bare, unpainted wall. The counter was littered with random tools and hills of sawdust.
Every time we move - whether from one art studio to another or one house to another - my husband and I dispense with a dizzying array of possessions.
About three months ago, my husband came in from golfing and told me about a new sport that's all the rage.
A friend explained to me recently that there is a difference between a dream and a fantasy. A dream, she said, is something you act upon, while a fantasy is lived only in the head. I was talking about my desire to have an animal rescue ranch and how I am once again shutting the door on it by moving to a neighborhood where hoofed animals are not welcome.
The other night, the topic of TV dinners came up.
We've bought a new house.
The weeks are flying by.
I've had 10 dogs, numerous foster dogs, three horses and two cats. Each time I changed states, for school or for jobs, I was forced to change veterinarians, and each time, it was agonizing.
