A long five days

The Spouse tested positive for Covid on Thursday. He's doing ok and I’ve tested negative every day since, but we are both in quarantine.

The Spouse tested positive for Covid on Thursday. I’ve tested negative every day since and we are both in quarantine.

I don’t understand why I keep testing negative - seeing as how we share a bed and neither of us have any concept of personal space when we sleep¹. But somehow I’ve been testing negative and he’s laying in bed miserable.

He’s OK. He’s had strong flu-like symptoms: headache, body aches, chills, fever, scratchy throat, etc. But his fever broke yesterday, his appetite is increasing, he’s been staying hydrated, and resting a lot. Thankfully he’s vaccinated and boosted. Logically I understant the situation is stable, and that while he’s uncomfortable, he is OK.

You can’t convince my anxiety of that though. That’s why I stress ate an entire box of Nilla Wafers Thursday night - and then again last night- while working on this newsletter. Much of the last five days have been spent fighting the urge push the big feels down. My therapist tells me it’s exhausting for us to push away strong emotions, and that when we do, they bubble up in other areas of our life - affecting our sleep, our mood, our confidence, sense of safety, self worth, and our physical health. I understand this logically too, but I hate feeling my feelings.

My therapist is often right about this stuff though so I take his advice and let out tears, bit by bit throughout the day, whenever I feel them well up. I cry while I make broth from scratch so we can have homemade chicken noodle soup. I cry while I watch a bunch of cute animal videos. I take a break from crying to watch the 2017 film Baywatch, nominated that same year for Worst Picture by the Golden Raspberry Awards². I cry while I text my friends to let them know whats going on, and to ask for support and levity, which they so graciously give.

For example, a friend called me this weekend to tell me that she described me to her therapist. “Imagine you meet the most nurturing, beautiful, gracious, open, loving, caring person; they’re like a blossoming lotus flower, but if you turn them over - instead of roots….there’s the NJ Turnpike. Like they’re amaaazing! - but you don’t wanna fuck with them, or they’ll piss in your cheerios.”

It made me laugh because it’s true, and also because I love her. She’s a wonderful human. We deserve wonderful humans (and things) in our lives because lives are hard, and they make it easier to get through the tough days and to celebrate the good ones.

On that note³, here’s a few humans and things that help me handle the tough stuff (in no particular order):

1. Bad Action Movies - I have a soft spot for absolutely terrible action/disaster movies. The Meg. Anaconda. Geostorm. San Andreas. They’re godawfulness thrives because of two factors: 1) They are full of overacting people and terrible plot lines, both of which exist simply to drive the story along, and 2) inevitably you wind up laughing during a scene that’s not supposed to be funny, but absolutely is⁴.

2. The Spouse - I feel like this is a no brainer but The Spouse is an amazing human. I would jump in front a train to save him. There are not many people I would do that for (read; no one) but for him I would do it without question. It’s scary how much I love him. I didn’t think loving someone this much was possible, but I also didn’t know that being loved this much back was possible. Anyway - he’s amazing. He’s perfect. He is laying in bed feeling like crap right now, and all I wanna do is crawl in bed with him and hold him. And I cant which pisses me off. But this is a list about things that make me happy/help with the tough stuff, so let’s get back to that. He makes me happy, because he is wonderful.

3. Friends - I am genuinely lucky to have a handful of superbly great people in my life. People who send me cute animal videos, stay up with me till 1am brainstorming/texting about Succession fan merch, and send me pictures of their pets. I didn’t have friends growing up, so having people who love and care for me is truly a gift I don’t take for granted.

4. Weed and my meds - As shitty as things get, I know my meds⁵ are keeping me stable, and weed is keeping me calm. I don’t want to think about where I’d be without modern medicine.

5. Carbs - I fucking love carbs. Especially bread and bread-like pastry. And I’m not talking about croissants. Croissants suck. I said it! And I’m not taking it back! What’s the point of eating something thats so damn flaky and messy, that by the time you’re done eating it, more than half of it winds up on the plate/floor in a million buttery, greasy flakes? When I say bread, I mean real bread. Corn bread. Italian bread. Challa bread. French toast. Banana bread with mini chocolate chips. Buttermilk biscuits slathered in honey butter. GARLIC BREAD. I could go on. Point is, carbs rock. They make my soul happy even if my body hates me when I eat too much of it. Bread is fantastic. Long live bread. And doughnuts. (Ok now I’m hungry.)

Anyway. Thats my update for this week. I’m terrible at ending newsletters. I promise I’ll get better. Maybe. (Hopefully). Keep wearing masks in public spaces, get up to date on your vaccine’s and boosters, eat a box of donuts⁶, and send me your fav terrible action movies; I’ve still got five days of quarantine left.

Love ya,

Monica

1. Ok, ok, fine. I’m the one who has no concept of personal space when I’m sleeping. But saying it’s both of us makes me feel better, and these past few days have been shitty so let me have this.

2. The Golden Raspberry Awards (aka the Razzies) is a parody award show honoring the worst of cinematic under-achievements. Also nominated in 2017 was Fifty Shades Darker, The Mummy, Transformers: The Last Knight, and lastly, The Emoji Movie, which took home the literal gold raspberry shaped award for Worst Picture that year.

3. “Smooth segue Monica” says my inner critic who doesn’t even pitch in for toilet paper but walks around my brain like they own the place.

4. For example, in the 2015 disaster film San Andreas, (spoilers to follow) there’s a part of the movie where Dwayne the Rock Johnson saves a bunch of people from a gigantic sky scraper thats about to collapse onto the street. It falls quickly enough to kill some faceless CGI bystanders, but it won’t kill our hero who is guiding citizens with faces (and his ex wife played by Carla Gugino, who he has saved twice now in the film) to safety. The first time he saved her was just moments ago, using a helicopter to rescue her from the top of a different burning and collapsing building. There’s a lot of burning and collapsing buildings in this film, its easy to lose track of them. Anyway, the people get saved and he gives some weird one liner about stability and I think love? It’s hard to tell (or care) because this is when the camera cuts to Carla Gugino, who after being saved - now a second time - by her ex husband, is sitting on the ground gazing up at him with an expression that can only be described as “a bitch ready to suck the bones out of a mans body”. But not any man y’all. This is her man. Dwayne The Mother-Fucking-Rock Johnson. It’s a performance worthy of an Oscar in the “Best Thirsty Face by a Supporting Actor” category. I laughed so hard, and applauded so loud, that my neighbors might be considering moving. Anyway, they go on and find/save their daughter (oh yeah, they have a daughter) and yada yada happy ending, but that scene. That scene is comedic gold.

5. Every few years I think of getting a tattoo as an ode to my meds, and then I remember my roommates drug dealer in college. He was covered in tattoos of Shakespearian quotes and chemical structures, including a few for anti-depressants. He was also an idiot who had asked me out numerous times, even though I kept saying no. One day I had reached the limit of my patience, and genuinely didn’t care if my roommate had to get her weed somewhere else. I looked him dead in the face and straight up told him I wouldn’t go out with him because he was a dumbass. He got indignant, but I cut him off.

“You know why I’m not gonna go out with you? Because people all over campus know you as “Tackle Box Ted”. Because you go into frat parties with a red tackle box - announce yourself as “Tackle Box Ted” - and then sell drugs out of it. Thats why”.

And honey, I shit you not, his response was to fervently protest that the tackle box was actually a very reasonable and convenient method of transporting drugs, and that having a “mascot” was good for his brand.

Obviously, dude got arrested a few weeks later because who the fuck announces themselves as a drug dealer in a packed frat house every weekend and doesn’t get caught? Moral of the story: don’t get tattoos that you’ve seen on dumbasses. Other moral of the story: if the dealer hits on you or your roommate, get a new dealer.

6. If you are in Brooklyn, you should run - not walk - to Fan Fan Doughnuts. They make the perfect braided doughnut. The White Coffee Doughnut is also phenomenal. Honestly, everything there is amazing. Go support a local business and eat doughnuts as a reward!