By: Gabriela Yareliz
I stared down at the New Yorker page at the colorful painting. It looked so familiar. I then glanced over at my painting in my studio and then again at the page. I glanced again at the painting and then the page. Of course it was familiar. On the page was the same painting a kind widower had gifted to me after I had helped him with something. I never quite understood the painting, but now I understand what all the little men with their hats mean. The New Yorker published an entire piece about it. It was hilarious. Mystery solved.
Today was a strange day. The week is almost over, and as I watch some episodes of The Office for the first time, I realize more and more how much my work environments have resembled the tiny, bizarre Scranton office. Except the Steve Carell version is funny. You wouldn’t need a script for my life, just follow me around with a camera. We would be a highly rated show. There is suspense, absurdity and so much randomness.
I did laundry today because I decided that doing it tomorrow after my planned grocery shopping trip and the three hours it takes to clean and put everything away would be too much. I would need an ambulance to come and hook me up to an IV, and let’s face it, they aren’t coming. They have bigger problems.
Today, it has been exactly a month that I have been sheltering in place. NYC decided to commemorate the occasion by announcing another lockdown month is coming. When I got the text (yes, they still text me), my eyes filled with tears. I think I am just tired.
The weekend is coming. I am trying to focus on that and the beautiful card I got in the mail from my love, today. I am going to read a bit more Slightly South of Simple before bed. Whether it’s the weekend or a good book, we all need an escape.
As the lady who passed out Metro newspapers on Court St. used to say about Thursdays, It’s mini Friday, people! Smile!