The best thing I can tell you about today is that I’m still alive and so is everyone I know, at least, of the people who were alive last week. They’re all still alive. That’s really good news. Also, the sun was shining. My daffodils are up, bunches of them in the garden, bless their yellow heads. There’s a pot of pink tulips and a vase of blazing forsythia in my kitchen. The chocolate is very good, including the solid chocolate bunny that was delivered by Soul, the small local place, whose ears I have devoured.
The peanut butter is very good. I eat it by the teaspoon.
Covid routine: an hour walking around the ‘hood with Ruth, six feet apart, mostly with me in the middle of the street and her on the sidewalk. Luckily there aren’t many cars. I gave her a pot of homemade jam, and she gave me some homemade soup. We discussed recommendations for movies to watch. She recommends Paddington, not just for children, she says, it’s clever and charming, I’ll love it. I’m sure I will and it’s on my list, as soon as I get through Inspector Jane Tennison, who takes up much of my evening. Tonight, she was relentless in exposing a Bosnian mass murderer working for the British government. The government and the bosses are almost always stupid and wrong in this show. She also sleeps regularly and without apology with someone on her team. She’s prickly and stubborn and rarely wrong, except about men. Mesmerizing.
Deck to deck aperitif with Monique at 5.30, the CBC radio news at 6. Dinner. Television.
My ex-husband’s birthday tomorrow. Poor man, running a huge theatre complex in the States, 3 theatres, hundreds of staff, no idea when things will start again, a wife with serious health issues and a young daughter home from school. Not his best birthday. We will try to Zoom tomorrow with our two kids here – see if it works.
My GST rebate arrived today. I donated it to FoodShare Toronto. I wish I could do more.
I’m sorry, this is dull. But what matters is – I’m alive to write this, and you to read it. Onward.