Last night ended five weeks of being isolated in the house.

All of you out there know what that means.

Along with tequila I had chips and salsa for supper.  Dessert was a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

The entertainment of the evening was episodes eight and nine of Season 4 of THE WIRE.

We wore the same clothes we have worn for five weeks (we do remember to wash them once in a while, if we think about it and actually get around to it), also known as our Virus Uniforms.

Sometimes we clean up the kitchen.  Sometimes we don’t.

Every day we walk the loop in front of the house.  But not together.  Banjo Man walks fast.  I still limp.  It’s a solitary exercise, but we’re breathing fresh air.

We have our morning chat every day, after I fix my first mug of coffee.  Banjo Man usually comes to my office and we chat about the world.  There might be a discussion later on in the day about dinner.  Or not.  We meet again around 6 or so for our tv programs (no news allowed in the evenings).  We have been known to have popcorn for supper, but don’t tell anyone.

There is still plenty of food in the freezer.  We’ve realized we don’t really eat that much.

And I am starting to go–ever so slowly–insane.