Three of the humans who live here in my house left for the day to go work at the farm, AND IT IS SILENT AND I LOVE IT AND MAYBE THEY COULD STAY THERE A FEW NIGHTS??
Now, listen, Diary; I LOVE those humans. I do. I ADORE them. But two of them are the Talkers around here. They’re the Extroverts. They’re the Insatiable People Needers. They’re the Men of ALL THE WORDS.
So, SO many words, Diary.
They talk to think. They talk to muse. They talk to figure out the whys and the wherefores. They talk because they Saw a Meme. They talk because they Read an Article, so [Statistics] and [Projections] and [Experts Say] and [They Can Therefore Deduce.]
They talk because they’re contemplating clipping their toenails or considering making toast or weighing the merits of going for a walk now vs. later, morning vs. afternoon, overcast vs. sunny, one dog vs. two, short lap vs. long, wooded path vs. neighborhood — ‘oh, and does anyone want to come along and chat?’ 😳
They talk about what’s for dinner. Also, what might be for dinner tomorrow. Also, what they had for dinner yesterday. Also, what were their Favorite Dinners of All Time. Also, Favorite Ethnic Foods. Also, Favorite Car Snacks. Also, Favorite Breakfasts and why aren’t beans on toast common in America? And how come mom has never made blood sausage? And what’s the difference between Vegemite and Marmite? And why don’t we eat more cantaloupe?
They talk about the mail. Has the mail come? How about now? How about now? Who has checked the mail? Do we know for sure the mail hasn’t come? Did we go all the way to the box and look or are we just making assumptions? What came in the mail? Anything for me? How come the 3-pack of duct tape I ordered from Amazon isn’t here yet? What do you mean duct tape isn’t an essential item? What if I’m having a duct emergency?
It goes on, Diary.
And on and on.
Of course, I’m not being fair to them. Not very fair, anyway. Because they’re not getting credit for all the chattering they’re NOT doing. They’re not receiving trophies for all the times they think of talking but zip it because I beg for No More Words. Just, like, FIVE MINUTES OF NO WORDS, PLEASE.
I really feel like we’ve made a Massive Quarantine Error, though, in sorting folks by household. Boxing people up with their families. Making us live and breathe and eat and talk with these humans 24/7 instead of 14/7 like we’re more accustomed to.
It would have made much more sense to sort us by common interests.
A Reading House full of couches and fireplaces and tea and crumpets and bathtubs.
A Productivity House for the folks who are all QUARANTINE = ACCOMPLISH ALL THE GOALS. They get access to spreadsheets and protein powder.
A Makers’ House with sewing machines and a wood shop and crafting supplies and welding tools and STRICT INSTRUCTIONS to leave all safety guards in place BECAUSE THE EMERGENCY ROOMS CAN’T HANDLE SEWING YOUR FINGER BACK ON RIGHT NOW… although I suppose you could ask the quilters for assistance.
A Green House for people putting in victory gardens, with starts already poking out of their egg carton containers, and for all those with a menagerie of indoor plant children in adorable pots.
A Gaming House.
A Reality TV House.
A Talks-During-Movies House.
A Pristine Cleaning House.
WE COULD HAVE HAD ALL THE HOUSES.
When we have a president again who believes in things like Pandemic Preparedness and doesn’t, you know, fire the team of experts working to ready us for such an event, do you think we can add House Assignments to their list, Diary? I feel like it’s a reasonable request.
P.S. My Talking Humans are back home now, and, indeed, I have been unfair, for zero of them are currently talking. #WhenYouRealizeYouMightBeTheProblem #TheCommonDenominatorWhenYouAreIrritatedIsYOU
P.P.S. I DID use my time wisely while they were away. I taught myself to play I’m Not Wearing Underwear Today on the piano.
Badly. But also… accurately. I feel it’s the Song for Our Time.
P.P.S. I can’t decide which house I belong in. I mean, obviously the Reading House is my first pick. But I feel like I qualify for the Gardening House since I’ve kept Enid alive for a record-breaking twenty four days now, AND I’m so good at vegetable gardening I can do it without even planting a garden.
That’s a sweet potato plant right there.
Or possibly a yam.
Are you allowed to apply for the Gardening House if you don’t know the difference between a sweet potato and a yam?
P.P.P.S. Um… do I plant that now, or what?
P.P.P.P.S. Please let me know what house you’d join, what houses we need but I failed to mention, and any additional qualifications for said houses. I feel like it’s a good idea to give the Pandemic Preparedness Team a head start when they get back to work (HOPEFULLY AFTER THE 2020 ELECTION) — they’ve got to make up for lost time.