Someone on social media said it was like hanging out in Vegas this quarantine routine, and I immediately responded in agreement. Yes! It's now my response to everything.
Me: "Does anyone else want a glass of wine?"
Darcy: "It's not even five o'clock."
Me: "Vegas, Baby!"
or
Madison: "It's three o'clock in the morning! How did that happen? Why aren't we sleeping?"
Me: "Vegas, baby!"
We were doing reasonably well on the days of the week--until Tom had Friday off. From then on, we were off by a day, and it's gone downhill since, each day rolling into the next with very little change. We are a well-oiled machine cranking along with work, projects, and three square meals a day.
We each have a duty.
Darcy is in charge of groceries. She has us picking up groceries at Walmart, and she also registered with Instacart for delivery service from our local supermarket because Walmart is three to four days out, and we go through Ding Dongs milk and bread rapidly.
I'm in charge of laundry and deep cleaning. With five humans changing clothes often during the day, not to mention the multitude of showers, I'm in the laundry room daily. I set timers with our many Alexa devices to alert me to the finish of cycles, and hopefully, those coincide with my Apple watch, which alerts me when it's time to stand up and move. Folding clothes is a great way to close those rings.
Oleg's responsibility is the dog. He is in charge between the hours of Tom leaving and Tom arriving. He takes him outside, plays with him, cuddles him, and feeds him. When Elliot alerts me to some need, all I do is yell that the dog needs assistance, and Oleg hops up from wherever he is to deal with it. So much so, that Elliot is now starting to cut out the middleman to go straight to the source.
We all cook. Darcy gathers us at the end of the week, and we chime in with needed ingredients for our meals, and those that don't cook that day are on clean-up duty after eating.
In the evenings, after the sun has long set, we walk a mile. It could be at eight o'clock, or it could be ten o'clock. No one looks at a clock, and sometimes when we're out, we ponder on not seeing humans or lights on in the houses we pass. Oops. Apparently, not everyone is in Vegas.
Even our downtime is routine. We read. Madison and Oleg play Animal crossing on the Wii, and Darcy and I each run a bakery in an old app where we cook and sell pastries that must be prepared and served at certain times. We communicate with each other as if this is real life, and none of us consider it strange.
Madison: "Oleg, the market is open at noon, and we can get peaches today."
Me: "Darcy, are you getting the new oven? Should I? What types of pastries does it cook?"
Madison does a weekly podcast with strangers she has befriended. Darcy has a weekly video wine check-in with friends. Oleg has a weekly Facetimewith his family in Ukraine, and I have a list of family and friends I call to check-in. Occasionally, we do a six feet drive-by chat or a six-feet cocktail hour in the front yard with friends.
We wash our hands--and the items we bring into our house. We wear a mask if we need to enter anywhere that isn't our own home. Recently, during a stop at Walgreens for essentials, Darcy returned to the car full of excitement.
Darcy: "I just hit the jackpot!!"
Vegas, baby!!
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