Living alone in rural Maine during the Pandemic
Leftovers from last night. And what difference does it make, really?
I mean, it feels like dinner right now. Or is it more like lunch? I don't know. Dunno. Don't know. And, besides, whoever I see, they will be 6 feet away, and won't be able to smell the garlic first thing in the morning.
Heck, I might even have bacon and eggs for lunch. And, who-knows-what for dinner. Maybe a triple martini with an extra olive! Ha. How about that! Take that! But, I don't drink. But, if I did, that is what I would have. I can imagine talking to myself, the bartender, and asking for a triple martini, calmly, like it made sense, normal, throwing in the extra olive for a little nutrition, see how much I could consume in one glub. Be impressed if I could finish it in two. Probably figure out where I would sit to drink this thing. The couch in the living room, facing the south window. Stare out, admiring the scenery, waiting for that warm wave of fog to envelope my limp brain.
But.... I digress.
I have no idea what I will have for dinner.
I WILL be planting my first garden this spring, though. Keeping it small.
I am interviewing my many neighbors with gardens. They all say I need to start the seeds indoors, and transplant the seedlings in the beginning of May.
I have started.
I am keeping these posts short, to align with my attention span.