Today is Victor’s 12th day of never leaving his room, because in spite of the fact that it’s been the 10 recommended days of isolation, he’s still a bit sick and continues to test positive for covid. Technically he’s probably fine to be around us but he’s very conservative and wants us to be safe and probably also doesn’t want to leave his fortress of solitude where you never have to do dishes or scoop cat litter.
And it’s a bit lonely but fine, although we’re supposed to travel next week for my work and probably won’t be able to since he has to have a clean covid test to leave the country and I’ve read some people still test positive for months. If I was a normal person I’d just go by myself but I am not normal and my anxiety is too severe to travel by myself and I’m feeling a little shitty about myself because of it.
I know it’s okay. I know we’re lucky to be able to isolate here and that Victor isn’t sicker (thank you, vaccines) and that I am even given wonderful opportunities to travel even when my brain makes them impossible most of the time. But it doesn’t change the fact that I was feeling very pathetic when I started this post. And then I looked up and saw my Christmas tree, which is still up (although 1/4 of the lights have burned out) in spite of the fact that it’s now February.
And then I felt a little worse. And I considered taking it down but then I decided not to because honestly, I’m battling a touch of depression exhaustion and I need a little bit of colorful lights even if they are are a shiny reminder of my poor housekeeping skills.
And then I looked outside and saw that the trees were weighed down with ice and I felt bad about the fact that I still haven’t replaced the plants that died in the last freeze a fucking year ago and wondered if anyone else in the world is as behind as I am in everything. I walked outside to see how bad it was and realized that if I had replaced the dead bushes they’d probably be dead again today and that’s maybe not the healthiest way of looking at it but instead of feeling shitty about myself I congratulated myself for skipping one round of dead bushes by just jumping to “still dead” instead of “dead again but more expensive”.
And then I looked inside at my Christmas tree and from my yard you couldn’t even tell that a quarter of the lights are out or that I’m weeks behind on deadlines or that the laundry is stacked higher than my head. You could just see the twinkling lights, and the tv flickering from Victor’s room and Hailey dancing in theirs and Dorothy Barker with her paws up to the glass door as she whined for me to come back in and snuggle her.
And it was sort of beautiful.
Sometimes it’s all in how you look at it.