When’s It Going To End? When Is This !@#% Quarantine Going To End?

I swear I keep sticking my needle into my finger to reality-check that I’m still alive. Good, Red … I’m still alive. That this mess of a jewelry making project before me, one I keep starting, then stopping, then starting, then putting it away, and then retrieving it, and starting it again is more than a blur, a fog of my imagination. I have this great, intricate beaded necklace to make. And I can’t seem to get it done.

I’ve gone through two packs of 25 beading needles. I pick another one up. I bend it. The needle-hole catches my eye. My eye twitches a bit. Why would I ever want to thread this needle and start this project one more time? Bend now. I can’t wait for you to bend when I’m in the middle of things.

Oh, and the guilt. Everytime I stop, I think I’m being selfish. If I go outside, someone will get sick. If I complain that I’m BORED, CLIMBING UP THE WALLS, SAYING NASTY THINGS ABOUT JESUS, someone will die.

And I love beading and making jewelry. I do it all the time. Almost every day. Hours a day. Never one iota of boredom. Mind never wandering. Until now. Until I’m forced to stay inside.

I can’t focus. I can’t read. I am even getting tired of complaining to my husband. Who doesn’t care. Has never pierced his finger with a needle. And should he ever…