Girl in a bubble
My world has shrunk so much, though I am lucky to have even the range that I do have. JRo and I have our little house with good spaces to be together and our bedroom suites when we want to be apart or alone for a while. We have the patio to host a few friends safely and to hang out and enjoy a lunch or an evening drink together or to grill up something for dinner. We have our little container garden with tomatoes and herbs and flowers. We are lucky.
When I go out, I have five grocery stores within less than a mile, a hardware store a few hundred yards across the street, some good takeout food.
We can socialize safely with Sis and the BIL and nephews at their house and yard, and when they are away camping I can go up there to see to their pretty cat and tend their garden and be alone with some space to breathe.
So I'm lucky; I find myself concerned for the millions of people living stacked in apartments with no outdoor spaces and no privacy and cramped conditions and limited resources. I disliked apartment living for all the years that I had to do it back when the world was wide open, and could not be more grateful to have found house dwelling at this point in my life and under this pandemic.
I'm itchy to get out more in the world, at the same time that I have a lot of trepidation about trying it. All of the jobs to which I've applied are either hyper-local or can be done with remote work. The search continues; it's difficult to be noticed when the pools of applicants easily top 200 people for each open position. On and on and on, I try.
Meanwhile I hold onto thankfulness for everything I have, see a few friends often and safely, love the time I'm able to spend with family. And I've got my Foodwinos, who meet electronically every two weeks on Fridays to talk food, wine and whatever and most recently, to cook together.
My world is small, but it contains treasures.
When I go out, I have five grocery stores within less than a mile, a hardware store a few hundred yards across the street, some good takeout food.
We can socialize safely with Sis and the BIL and nephews at their house and yard, and when they are away camping I can go up there to see to their pretty cat and tend their garden and be alone with some space to breathe.
So I'm lucky; I find myself concerned for the millions of people living stacked in apartments with no outdoor spaces and no privacy and cramped conditions and limited resources. I disliked apartment living for all the years that I had to do it back when the world was wide open, and could not be more grateful to have found house dwelling at this point in my life and under this pandemic.
I'm itchy to get out more in the world, at the same time that I have a lot of trepidation about trying it. All of the jobs to which I've applied are either hyper-local or can be done with remote work. The search continues; it's difficult to be noticed when the pools of applicants easily top 200 people for each open position. On and on and on, I try.
Meanwhile I hold onto thankfulness for everything I have, see a few friends often and safely, love the time I'm able to spend with family. And I've got my Foodwinos, who meet electronically every two weeks on Fridays to talk food, wine and whatever and most recently, to cook together.
My world is small, but it contains treasures.