Wednesday morning: I start to write this column. This week has already gone to hell in a hand basket; a storm and cases of community spread COVID-19 on Monday, a sharp increase of cases on Tuesday, a case at St. Clare’s today, me with a hip replacement scheduled at St. Clare’s on Thursday, election scheduled for Saturday and Valentine’s Day on Sunday.
And if that’s not enough, there’s a good possibility that lockdown measures will have increased by the time you read this so is it any wonder that five beautiful crossbills at my feeder not three feet away from me is the highlight of the week so far?
Later Wednesday morning: my surgery has been cancelled.
Wednesday afternoon: 53 new confirmed cases, 32 presumptive and we are indeed in serious lockdown again.
Wednesday night: I set up my new cottage garden puzzle and plan my grocery and liquor store order for the next day.
Thursday morning: in a desperate attempt to lighten up I will think about Valentine’s Day.
As I do every year I will tell you my favourite valentine joke. I don’t think I ever remember to tell it the same way every year, but the message doesn’t change. ‘One hundred men and women were asked what they’d like for Valentine’s Day. Most of the women said jewellery. Most of the men said “Valentine’s Day is coming?”’
Newman and I don’t feel we need a special day to celebrate our undying love for each other. In fairness to him he does usually bring me flowers and for some reason I’m always a bit surprised. I haven’t given him anything since the year I gave him a big basket wrapped in glittery red cello paper and filled with beer from that section where you buy it by the each and one can cost more than a Hallmark card. He was so delighted that I knew I’d never be able to top that gift so I quit while I was ahead.
While I’m sharing the details of our relationship, I might as well tell you that we’ve separated. Ha ha. It’s been a while coming.
Newman used to spend most of his time in the study on the main floor. He had his computer and credenza there, but there were also two recliners and a big TV. My computer desk is also in the study but I don’t use it a lot. I’d often join him for a movie date but my place was by the window in the living room.
During the first lockdown I took to playing with paints. After months of having stuff spread out in the living room and having to keep putting it away and taking it out again I had the brainwave to commandeer my computer desk, putting the computer on a shelf right above it.
Every day we got to spend a few hours of togetherness him watching CNN and scrolling, me dabbling away. I quite enjoyed it.
Then my thoughtful Newman decided that he’d move his office furniture downstairs “to give me more room.”
There’s a bathroom, bedroom and fridge, plus two comfortable couches down there so Janine said the writing was on the wall.
Sure enough, when he started musing about moving his big tv down there too I knew it was too late to go back to our previous bliss. I’m just thankful the bedroom isn’t set up.
Disclaimer: I do like having my own room to spread out in.
He doesn’t turn on the light going down the stairs. Watching him emerge one day, a movie from the 50’s popped into my mind; “The Creature from the Black Lagoon.” Ha ha.
My valentine has a lagoon. It’s quite nice actually but I don’t see myself spending any time down there.
There’s only so much romance a woman can stand. Besides I have my cottage garden to escape to even if it is only in a puzzle.
Thursday morning: Dr. Janice Fitzgerald is a valentine for all of us. Please listen to her.
Janice Wells writes from St. John’s.