Running in Place

I am officially the corona moan-a!
Getting ready for a “go to humor” virtual committee meeting sometime I think today or tomorrow or in the next 100 years that we are in quarantini. I like my apartment but every freakin corner is now too clean. Not only do I need a manicure, like desperate in nature, I think I need a pinky transplant. I hear beeps- yeah like beeps and I don’t know where they are coming from- did you ever? I am rounding out the bottom of the hand lotions and I am hunting for those airplane give aways with the mini bottles. Just for today to maintain that one increment of Sanity (capital S like in wishful thinking), I vow not to touch any baggies, tin foil, saran wrap, dishwasher powder or a sponge. I am so over sponges- I can’t. I kiss the mezzuha’s, rub the Buddha Bellies, and say Shemas at the major shrine a.k.a. the refrigerator every single day and Gornisht Helfn. Ok, so the lights are on, the dishwasher unloaded, dinner is defrosting on the hermetically clean counter- (no cross contamination here)- and now that we are tapped out on Netflix-I’m searching on prime and hulu for what we can binge for the next 8 hrs. Signing off from the go to humor committee member. Flip it and have a good day!

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