The other day, Julie was leaving Raleigh to head back to Charlotte for an in person meeting at work. As we snacked for breakfast, she said, “What are you going to do today?”
I responded: “Well, I’m gonna work a little and eat lunch…”, I paused a second, and finished my sentence, “and then, I’m gonna… eat dinner…”
She busted out laughing. I was totally oblivious. That was truly all I had planned for the day: lunch, then dinner. My life is centered around two mediocre meals that I prepare by myself, at home, in my recently worn out kitchen.
My stove must be exhausted. My ice maker grunts at me. I had to buy a new dishwasher. Because, ALL I do is WORK and EAT. My internet is even beat. Today it sputtered and flickered off and on all day.
We are all just so tired.
My mother told me if we didn’t let her out of the house soon she was going to make a break for it. I fear she will pick up a friend and go Thelma and Louise on us.
You can’t even go outside to walk. It’s 97 degrees, but the weatherman reminds me daily it actually feels like 106. RUB IT IN DUDE. It’s like exercising in the Y sauna. Unbearable.
I’ve become addicted to the news. I want to know – and I don’t. But I can’t turn it off. I record it so if I miss it at 6:30, I can watch it at 7. But I never miss it at 6:30 because I’m always home – thinking about what I might eat for dinner.
And to top it off, the political ads have started. If I see the poor old lady about to get attacked because no one is answering 911, my brain will explode.
I can’t do this ‘til November 3.
Netflix, where oh where art thou new movies? I don’t want to watch He’s Just Not That Into You.
I record CBS Sunday morning, arguably the best show on TV, and the dad-est show on TV. In January I had 34 episodes stored. I have three left. And they are reruns of reruns.
My PJ pants have a hole in them. I work at the Y and am running out of t-shirts. That’s not right.
This whole thing’s not right. We aren’t supposed to be in our houses this much. We aren’t supposed to be with our family this much. We shouldn’t be cooking all of our meals and exercising at home. My biceps are growing as is my waistline.
Vaccine. Come on. Come on BABY. Inject me! Gooooooo Maderna!!
The Real Fuller House 
Jean B Ham
/ July 29, 2020I can tell that you, too, are going batty. I’s enough to drive you to a home for the Covid crazies. One of those would be me. Want to join me? AT least you’d make me laugh. I actually went out of the house and stepped into a real life store that had only three other brave souls in it and Wayne grabbed what we needed. “I awe masked and refused to touch anything, even the door. It was automated or I would have had to go sit in the car. It’s getting bad around here. WE NEED CHURCH BADLY! It was good to visit with you and Julie last week. Go make your lunch and flip on your rerun. Love you
Mom
Andee
/ August 3, 2020You are hilarious! Try radio!
gnnradio.org/Programs
This is a favorite: gnnradio.org/Talks for Growing Christians/Talks. (15min. each)
And “Positive, Encouraging” K-Love or similar Christian music. You need it to balance the TV news!
And be thankful you don’t have to wear N95 mask!
Love & Prayers!
Andee
Danny Tanner
/ August 24, 2020Those masks hurt my entire head.