Breakfast time…something involving a can of Spam, a jar of Cheese Whiz and a bag of Goya crackers. It’s happening downstairs right now. I can’t. I’m upstairs with a large mug of strong coffee. My goals are small today. Today will NOT be the first day I show up to a Zoom meeting in my bathrobe.
I will not show up to my meeting in my bathrobe. I will not.
‘Do you want any of this ham?’ He is yelling upstairs from the general direction of the kitchen. I shake my head. ‘It’s not ham. It’s Spam and I’m afraid’. I do not say this aloud even though I think I do. Or I think I should.
‘Okay! I know where I stand’ he yells back. Did he hear me after all? I can’t. I just can’t. I check. I am dressed. The goal has been met. I hear a couple of cupboard doors slam downstairs. My computer blinks on…
690 Saint Paul 