The Month That Wasn't

I'm housebound due to adherence to my governor's lockdown orders, for the good of all of us (the herd), I'm not going out like those asinine Trump cultish losers with all my guns strapped to my fatigue clothes (I have one or two, having been a police officer for 9 years) and, displaying my guns prominently (big gun little dick), scream Open Up ('liberate") the state!  Nope, I've been hunkering down in my house and I go off my property twice a week for staples.

Every day blends into the last and the next, and I think I might be going bonkers but each morning I try to remember what I had for dinner the last night and that gets me oriented once I go downstairs to view the deitrus of the last night's dinner preparation and determine what I ate. Because I'm utilizing this housebound opportunity to work on getting rid of all of the formerly discounted old dented cans on my back porch and all the 2017 and later frozen meat in my basement freezer.

It's working, I threw out some 2011 boxes of rice a roni and a 2013 dented can that hissed when I opened it.  On my birthday this month, I spoke to some persons on the phone and fielded a birthday text from a Trumpite relative who wished me well then demanded that I list the accomplishments of the president and then I'd see, and I didn't see, or touch, or have in-person communication with anyone else.

The month that wasn't.  I tell my girlfriend we have two more years of this existence, under President Biden, and she howls that Trump will be re-elected (which depresses me that she thinks that because I don't think so), and that we'll be out of our desultory existence by early 2021 at the latest which I absolutely dispute.