Getty Image / Derek Davis/Portland Portland Press Herald
Dear Diary,
I haven’t checked in in a few days because I was drinking. I stopped because I have to drive seven hours today. We’ve been evicted from my girlfriend’s parents’ house because they rented it for a few weeks to some wealthy couple from New York City with dogs. I don’t know why the couple couldn’t let us stay. We’re sharing doorknobs already, as I’ve been marking my territory and sullying every inch of this place with delight. Good luck following in my dirty pawprints, you elitist snobs.
Off to Maine then! To the great white north, where six inches of snow fell last night. We’ll be staying with my parents now, whose plethora of recent health issues means we’ll have to stay in the basement for two weeks before I can officially hug mom. The plan was to eat meals outdoors, at least 10 feet apart, but then the snow fell. Oh, they also lost power this morning. Dad says the backup generator is working fine. The fridge is on and a few lights. No Wifi though.
It feels like we’re driving from 2020 to 1877.
I’ve been very responsive to my grandparents’ emails and FaceTimes. The result is that they’re emailing and FaceTiming more than ever. They use email the way I use texting. Seconds after I send a response, I have another email from them. It’s like I’m in the early stages of dating four much, much older people.
I ordered a kettlebell from Amazon. 55 pounds felt like the right choice. That’s heavy, sure, but I can use it as a heavy dumbbell too. It was hysterical to watch the UPS guy bring this tiny box up the steps. Incredibly, he said “this must be a kettlebell.” I then said “you must lift!” Then he said, “my entire job is lifting.” By that point, I was nervous. So I waved goodbye through the glass door. We had been yelling to each other through the glass.
We’re bringing the little french bulldog whom I’ve come to love despite his inability to breathe. You simply cannot watch television with him nearby. I’m hoping that our two yellow labs at home can bring him into the fold. But I also wouldn’t blame them for treating him like a new chew toy and ripping him around because they’re delirious from lack of sleep. God forbid he runs around for a second. If his normal breathing is loud, his “panting” is thunderous.
Maybe a change of scene and state will do us good. Maine seems to be in much better shape than many states, given how far apart everyone lives from one another. As a child, I lamented the fact that I could never bike to a friend’s house, the way that I had seen in The Sandlot. All my playdates required a coordinated mother-to-mother delivery and pickup schedule. It was 25 minutes on the highway just to trade basketball cards and play Crash Bandicoot. But as it turns out, Maine was social distancing before anyone knew the term. Consequently, they’re on the low-end of confirmed cases. Plus, the weed stores are still open. Essential services indeed…
I’ll miss Pennsylvania, sure. I’ve come to enjoy my river runs and the quiet of the woods in the morning. But we’re trading the Delaware for Harraseeket Bay and the fetid smell of low tide, and there are plenty of woods to enjoy. Perhaps I’ll build a birdhouse. I’m still looking for a new skill to hone, and I’ve yet to master the gun law loopholes. Carpentry seems like a safer alternative.
Let’s talk soon. I miss you.
Love,
Francis