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April 3, 2020

Being in time-out indefinitely is rough—for most people.  I, on the other hand regularly confine myself to my house. I’ve never exactly been accused of being communal, which is a nice way to say I don’t like being around people much.  (The term antisocial is so demeaning, don’t you think?)  But I do want to be grounded on my own terms.  I resent staying home because someone guilts, okay, requires me to do it.  And it’s not that I want grandma to die—hell, I am grandma—but I want to go about my normal life until I croak on my own timetable.  My husband thinks I’m rebellious.  What does he know?  He’s seriously the BFF of every person on the planet.  Being a homebody just isn't in his DNA.  

Anyhoo… we’ve had houseguests for the last two weeks.  Guess they didn’t want to be trapped in their own homes with school out, spring break and all, so they drove the 4½ hours to hang out in ours.  In keeping with our civic duty, 6 grandchildren, 6 adults and 5 dogs...

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