Once this pandemic hit, all that fiscally responsible shit went out the window. I’m sequestering alone. I’m anxious. I’m sad. I’m scared. I’m lonely. Cooking and eating comfort me.
I tiptoed into the podcast-listening world. I went from Soundcloud to Google Music to a now-defunct app that let you earn points per minute listened and now I’ve landed at Spotify. It’s not one of the platforms that let’s your rate or leave reviews, like iTunes or Stitcher, but I like it.
Convicted at the age of nine for the death of an eight-week-old baby girl Annalise, Mary B. Addison is serving time at a group home for convicted teens. Allowed to have a part-time job at a nursing home and to leave the group home on weekends wearing an ankle bracelet, Mary much rather prefers the group home to what she calls “baby jail,” where she first initially was serving her sentence.
Online dating. The assumption that anyone who goes through the trouble of signing up, creating a profile, uploading pictures, and in some cases, paying a fee, said person is interested in making connections. With another person. As in, a fellow human being. And since none of us are telepathic, we need to communicate.
Every week or every other week, my landlord would text me that I received another package. I let it sit out in the hallway for a week or so to de-Corona before I brought it in unbox. Reactions varied from pleasantly surprised to WTF? Most of the time, I know exactly where and why I want to log on and shop, however, I’ve fallen victim to pesky social media sponsored ads. In one case, it was a podcast sponsored ad. A list of sponsored ads to which I’ve succumbed during this pandemic:
Categories: Fabulousness, Goodreads, Listicle, Random Thoughts, Try New Things • Tags: Baking, clothes, Lists, Masks, Online Shopping, Pandemic, Pandemic Baking, Pandemic Shopping, Retail Therapy, Shopping, Skincare
There should be a warning before reading profiles. Warning: scrolling through these profiles may induce eye-rolling and headshaking. There should also be a warning to manage expectations when going through photo galleries.
I’m ready to get back into the dating game. I purposely called it a game because that’s exactly what it feels like. I’ve been on and off dating apps since my twenties. These men claim they want relationships, but their behavior says otherwise. I don’t want to go back to an app, but there’s no other way for me to put myself out there. Even when we were allowed to roam about freely, I had to resort to apps. I was not meeting The One at the grocery store, subway, bookstore, movies, concerts, book signings, plays, comedy shows, Brooklyn Bridge, doctor/dentist office, work, Greyhound, Amtrak, Lyft share, JFK airport or other places.
At no point while I was cooking, packing the food, searching for an outfit, taking a shower, exfoliating, shaving my legs, drying off, moisturizing, sponging my hair, getting dressed, packing an overnight bag, or calling a Lyft did I think it was a bad idea to head over there.
I glance at both chairs and both working stations, but ignore both. Neither is as appealing as remaining seated on my couch dressed in Calvin Klein boy short panties, bootleg black long-sleeve souvenir t-shirt that I bought at a tailgating party for $5, and my green silk headwrap. Bright green tie-dyed socks are on my feet. It’s a bit chilly in my apartment, though not chilly enough to put on pants.