The COVID Diaries: The Snack Plan

Howdy Darling Ones,

I would just like to take a moment to appreciate the sudden popularity of the word audacity. People are using it all the time on twitter and TikTok and it pleases me greatly.

Frankly, I’m stunned I could find someone to please me greatly. I’ve been up since 5:40 A dot M when my brain was done with the sleep and I decided to fold and put away all the laundry. Then I read the rest of Leave the World Behind, a book I started yesterday. It is very good and fucking creepy as shit and the kind of writing that makes you think, How did he do that?.

Have you ever seen the show “The Good Place?” If not, you should remedy that right quick. It’s brilliant and funny. The character Chidi was a Professor of Moral Philosophy cursed with indecision. At one point he explains that the inside of his brain sounds like a garbage disposal with a fork stuck in it.

That is me right now.

I spend half of my interminable awake time chastising myself for not pushing past the exhaustion to be more productive, to write something thoughtful and coherent and the other half trying to be gentle with myself and coming up with an emotional snack plan for Tuesday.

Yes, I’m worried about having the right snacks on hand during Election Night. Will I want something sweet? Salty? Donuts? Pretzel Chips? Ice Cream? Cookies? Just to be safe I have all those things in the house right now, and yet the food insecure kid in me is all, but will there be enough? I’ve had to talk myself out of hitting the grocery store before the election about a million times.

I often try to joke about what a food hoarder I am, but then I never get past the sad reasons why to get to the joke. Growing up in poverty with food insecurity has turned me into an adult who stocks their pantry like nine people are going to descend on her house at any minute and demand all the food. I realize that having four 40oz jars of peanut butter in the pantry might be overkill, but also I ran out peanut butter one time and it was horrifying.

So yeah. I got a whole self care plan for Tuesday — snacks, fresh flannel sheets on the bed, a few friends on speed dial, and well, I guess, you.

Thanks, Darling Ones. I feel so fragile right now and I do not like it one bit.


P.S. I found some old pictures of my childhood scrapbook while looking for something else. You’re welcome, because fucking Matt Dillion? AMEN! I mean Ponyboy Curtis was obviously my fictional crush and I will straight up makeout with anyone who can recite “Nothing Gold Can Stay” from memory, but when it came to the movie and physical attraction I was all Dally Winston all the time.

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