I keep putting everything off until tomorrow so nothing gets done. I feel like Scarlett O’Hara.

Yesterday I filled my new pillow covers and put them on the living room couch. I have two more coming. I’m calling it a redo as in I just redid my living room. I got no mail yesterday. Society is beginning to break down. The loss of catalogs is first.

My new across the street neighbor whom I don’t know well was out spraying his bushes this morning. He was using a small spray bottle. It will take a long time to do front and back.

Henry started his intruder bark, loud and deep. He was right. It was FedEx.

When I was a kid, being housebound would have tired quickly. I figure we’d have been at each other’s throats after only a few days of boredom, of watching the same old TV programs and playing the same old board games. Don’t get me started about Monopoly.

On weekends we’d make our own lunches. I was a bologna fan. I was also an American cheese fan. A few hot peppers from the jar spiced up the boring bologna, but the bread was so porous that the middle, where the peppers were, got soggy and a bit mushy. I didn’t care. I could do mayonnaise or mustard. It didn’t matter. We only had yellow mustard back then, my father’s only mustard. We’d add more like Dijon and horseradish, as we got older. I have several jars of different mustards in my fridge. I always have mustard on my hot dogs with the piccalilli.

I still have a pair of saddle shoes. They are about forty years old. I found them in a cave of a small shoe store. It was in an old building. The store was filled with boxes. They were stored one on top of the other until the piles were close to the ceiling. The salesman, also the owner, was little and old and bent over. He wore pants with a belt and suspenders. When I told him what I wanted, he went over to one pile, counted up and pulled a box. In that box were my saddle shoes. They fit perfectly. I’ve only worn them a couple of times. I think I’ll wear them today. I designate today as a dress up day. Wear something unusual, something you seldom wear. Make a statement.

Mother Nature has provided us with a beautiful day, in the low 50’s with sun, although a transient sun, and periodic clouds. I’m thinking of placing an order at the hardware store to be collected. That will get me out if even for a short time. I need a new laundry basket, a bin for snowmen storage and AA batteries. That sounds like a shopping list to me.

A woman on TV bemoaned the lack of choices left on the shelves in the pasta aisle. I bet she never flicked a bug from her dinner. I was good at it. Distance in the air is a skill honed over time.

Jack is feeling the pressure. Last night he sat on the table here in the den and maliciously pushed off the pile of note paper I keep on the corner in case I need to write down something I don’t want to forget. After he knocked it off, he just down.

This morning I had to open the cream. It had one of those plastic pull tabs under the screw top. To pull it off, that tab took all the strength of one of my fingers. I was thinking a knife or scissors next.

I read the Globe first, start to finish and even do the crossword puzzle. I get a second cup of coffee, and then, depending on the time, I either read the Cape Times or begin writing. Today is earlier than of late.

In the paper was a picture of five men standing side by side. The main man was described as third from the left. Why didn’t they just say second from the right?

FedEx delivered a couple of boxes. When I went to pull them inside, off the front steps, I could smell the motor of the truck. It reminded me of the smell of the jet engines when you’re walking on the jetways at the airport. I love that smell at the airport. It means I’m off, on my way to somewhere.

Yesterday afternoon I decided to live vicariously. I figured I should check to see what I have for Easter for my grands, my sisters and my friends. I knew chocolate was involved. The grands are all set. My sisters are all set. My friends are not even close. When I reached in to empty the bag from the candy store, I found a package of two chocolate covered Oreos. Mine! Mine! They really were mine. I had bought them for myself when I bought the chocolate rabbits and such. I had forgotten. They were exactly what I needed. Now, on to my list.

I love dusk when it is just starting to get dark. I turn my den light on and it lights half the room. The other half is in shadow on the edges.

Someone put a surgical mask on the statue of Paul Revere in the North End. It must have been a climb as Paul is on his horse. Mrs. Mallard followed by her Mallard family, her eight chicks, is in the Boston Garden. She is now wearing a mask. The ducklings are not.

I still have the same things to do I had yesterday.

From my yard, I can sometimes hear the traffic from the Mid-Cape. It sounds like the wind. This morning it was the wind.

Today is overcast. Notice the change of adjectives. Variety is the spice of life. Yes, I did write that. It came from my fingers unbidden. All this lack of human contact now has me talking in cliches.

Yesterday in the paper I noticed you can contact a sommelier who will choose your wine pairings for your dinner then send them to you.

I didn’t know you could still buy corned beef in a can with a key. Well, you can (UGH!!). It is made by Libby’s. My friend Peg and I were talking about buying it in Ghana but not often. It was expensive. I had to go very slowly using that metal key or the metal would break off. I learned to put more metal in the hole of the key at the start of it. My father’s can of Spam always had a key. I cut myself a few times on sharp covers. I bought some Spam before Christmas. I gave my sister some in her stocking and bought some for myself. I bought Hot and Spicy Spam, Spam Chorizo and Spam Tocino, a limited edition Filipino flavor. I just thought there was Spam, plain old ordinary Spam. It is perfect for every cupboard. I found out an unopened tin of Spam can last in the pantry for between two and five years. Once the tin is opened, it will last in the refrigerator for seven to ten days. How serendipitous of me to buy it.

Peg and I talked about dawadawa, a Ghanaian condiment. I love the name of it. Dawadawa is melodious, and you get to say it twice. Kelewele is another. Banku has a British English sound with the opening Ban but ku may be more Ghanaian. It is a forceful word, but it’s only a dough or a paste which comes in a plastic wrap. You eat it with soup. I never liked it. Maybe it is the consistency.

I think I have eaten the equivalent of a hot dog in just about every country I’ve visited. Most of the time I bought the food from stands along the sides of the roads. Sometimes chopped meat was wrapped around a stick and cooked over coals. I felt like like a cartoon character who nose pulled the character along to the fire and the food. I always bought a stick or two. My nose has not been wrong.

MSNBC was talking to maybe a senator or maybe a rep, I don’t remember, but I do remember the line he used to answer a question. He said there was, “No magic fairy dust.” I know the reference. At what age does it have no meaning beyond the words?

I got a few packages yesterday. I haven’t opened them yet. I thought I’d heighten the surprise for myself. I know the where, but I don’t remember the what, and I’m not looking. I’ll open the boxes when I finish here. It will be a fun afternoon, one different than the other afternoons so far.

Alexa tells me today will be cloudy. I knew that. I looked out the window. It is currently 44˚. Last night it rained. The air is still. I woke up late though I went to bed early for me, 12:30. Doing nothing is exhausting.

All nonessential businesses in Massachusetts are closed. Grocery stores, of course, are still open for pick-up and delivery. Liquor stores are still open. They are considered grocery stores. Only medicinal marijuana is being sold, not recreational. Probably a mistake.

I am a lazy sort. I used to need excuses as to why I didn’t vacuum or make the bed. Not any more. I choose the dust. I choose the unruly bed and the pile of dirty clothes. I choose my books.

Two of my dafs are in full bloom and four more are very close. Their yellow is so bright in the garden I stopped for a bit this morning on my way back inside with the papers hoping to inhale that color, to keep it close in my memory drawers.

When I do crossword puzzles, I am taken aback sometimes with the clues in the difficult puzzles. Those clues are my childhood. I have answered hula hoops, Howdy Doody, Mickey Mouse Club and The Beatles. Who, I stridently asked aloud, doesn’t know The Beatles. Henry didn’t even stir. He is used to my outbursts.

Today Nancy Pelosi said about something being Pollyannaerish, her word, not mine. I thought about the film Pollyanna, the reference I have for this word. I remembered Haley Mills, Jane Wyman, the orphans and prisms. I wondered at what age Pollyanna becomes simply a name, not a definition. I know what Nancy Pelosi is saying. I saw the movie.

I have lights on. They are comforting on days like today. I’m watching old movies, happy endings mostly. I even watched a Hallmark Christmas movie. I have no shame.

I watch news shows with correspondents broadcasting from home. I like to check out what I can see of their rooms. One MSNBC correspondent was in a room covered with palm frond wallpaper, or I think it was wallpaper. It could have been painted. Either way it isn’t my taste. I like the Jimmy’s: Fallon and Kimmel. They have short films from their houses. Jimmy Fallon has a neat slide from one room down to another. I liked his rooms. I liked Formal Friday which had been touted by Jimmy Kimmel. At his house, all the Kimmels are just fine, dressed fit for a fancy restaurant. I liked that too.

As for me, I’m hanging in. I have lots of stuff to keep me busy.

Today is an ugly day, a raw, cold, cloudy day. I’m glad I’m stuck inside the house. We all have food. Agway delivered today.

When I walk across the room, tumbleweeds blow left and right of my feet. I’m thinking cowboy boots and spurs, part of a metaphor of sorts, but I’d be wrong. There are no tumbleweeds, just clumps of fur, a combination of black and white fur so the clumps look grey. I really need to vacuum though I prefer the boots and spurs.

Henry comes in the dog door if he feels like it. If not, he stands outside the door looking in. Either I hide in the den hoping he’ll come in on his own or I go get him in, drawn by the sad face and the paw hitting the door every couple of minutes.

Kids are drawing outside on driveways using chalk. One had a giant, grinning sun with rays all around it. The message underneath said Smile. Kids are answering each other.

The governor has issued a stay at home advisory effective tomorrow which also closes stores except those offering necessary services like grocery stores, medical facilities, gas stations and pharmacies. Only essential people should be out and about. I am glad for all these businesses who have taken to delivering. I have what I need because of them.

I sometimes don’t see or talk to anyone for a few days or even longer. I don’t think it odd. The first time I ever lived alone was in Ghana. I was so very homesick, but I kept this to myself, not comfortable yet with close-by volunteers. I worked through it. It took a couple of months or even a bit more, but I started to love teaching and being in Ghana. I embraced the experience. I liked the alone time, and I liked being part of the community. If I had been with another volunteer that first year, we would have been together speaking English and keeping home.

I have lived alone here for close to 45 years. I don’t mind. I get to pick any TV station I want, anything I want for dinner, sensible or not, and how little or how much I do. I talk to my family. I like my days. They haven’t really changed. I’m doing just fine. I just need chocolate or hard Peeps.

I was a bit shocked when I went to get the papers. It is far colder than I expected, 37˚, and I gasped when I got outside. The day is sunny for a change so I was duped by good old Mother Nature in thinking warmth. I’m glad I’m in my warm house though it almost wasn’t warm. It has been a weird morning. I slept late and missed my 11 o’clock call to my sister. We did connect a little later. She has snow. My thermostat was stuck on some unknown number. I took off the cover and noticed batteries. I didn’t even know it had batteries. I found a couple of new ones and replaced the old. My house is getting warmer.

Yesterday I ate my piece of chocolate cake. I also ate a Payday. It was a salty-sweet test with no real results. I liked both of them equally though the Payday was an unexpected surprise. I can’t remember the last time I had one. The salted peanuts were the first bite. The caramel was next. Every bite was delicious. I finished it, but I had one more for later. My new mantra is treat yourself well.

I am suffering the loss of baseball. It is a sport I enjoy watching and the sport I know the most about, rules and plays and such. Right now I am watching ES2, the Brat Eating Contest from 2006, a new sport for me.

I remember getting the measles when I was a kid and having to lie in bed in a dark room, no lights, shades down. It was torture. I couldn’t read. I couldn’t watch television. My mother knew about measles and eyes. She was part of the mothers’ medical network. This time she was right, unlike the don’t go going swimming after eating or you’ll die of cramps rule.

My daffodils have flowered in the front garden. They are so bright, so yellow. I have different colored tulips from the florist. I ordered them with the groceries. Food for the body. Flowers for the senses.

Today is a cloudy but bright day. Maybe the sun will appear (ASIDE: the sun has started to break through). It’s a little chillier than yesterday and the last few days. I stood out on the deck for a bit this morning watching Henry in the yard. He always runs down the steps and across the gated driveway to a tree with a good size trunk. That’s where he lifts his leg and has been lifting his leg for the almost two years he’s been mine. Poor tree! Strong tree!

I have been watching Star Trek movies. Right now it is the Chris Pine, Zachary Quinto film on the origins of the first TV Enterprise crew. I’ve seen it before, but that doesn’t matter. I like this movie

When I brush my teeth and lean close to the sink, I can smell pine. It is the most wonderful aroma and comes from the candle by the sink: Bedrock Tree Farm Soy Candle with freshly harvested fir needles you can see on the top of the candle. They’re covered with a single layer of wax so they look green all the time. It’s like a Christmas memory.

Jack keeps meowing and he is driving me crazy. I tried being pleasant, but he still meowed. I got firmer. He meowed. I yelled. He meowed. I moved to another room. He followed me, meowing the whole time. I gave him treats. He stopped meowing.

Before I decided to stay mostly inside, I have always stayed mostly inside. I’d go out a couple of days a week for dump runs, any sort of appointments and a grocery stop. Now I have groceries delivered and all appointments are cancelled. I can wait a week before I need a dump run. I’m okay mostly, but every now and then I’d like a connection, a call. Any conversations I have with Henry are very one-sided.

My vacuum is waiting. I brought it down from upstairs. I’m almost at the I must vacuum point but not quite yet. It can wait.

Take care of yourselves!

The dafs in the front garden are almost ready to bud. Finally there is some color in this drab world still dressed for winter. The clouds haven’t left. Rain is predicted. There is a bit of a breeze, but it is warm, 50˚. There was fog this morning.

I’m going nowhere. I have sent orders for delivery to Agway, animal provisions, and to Ring, my provisions. Each place has e-mailed an acknowledgement of its order but doesn’t know when it will be filled. Henry is down to two cans of dog food. He has plenty of treats so he’ll be a happy boy. I have ordered treats for me so I’ll be a happy girl: a slice of the bakery’s chocolate three layer cake, 3 Payday bars, baby back ribs, a Danish and some flowers to brighten the house. I just got a call from Ring double checking my order. I’ll have it this afternoon.

My cleaning couple didn’t come. Lee called to say they are self-quarantining themselves. They have no symptoms, but they have been in a few different houses so they don’t know. They didn’t want to come here because they didn’t want to take a chance infecting me if they have it. I think Lee said something about my age; he was courteous of course. My house is dusty, animal hair dusty. I may clean.

I was in Ghana during its first cholera epidemic in 1970. I was returning to Ghana from out of country and entered at Kotoka International Airport. The passport part was easy, not so health. The inspector said we couldn’t enter as we hadn’t had cholera shots. We didn’t know about the cholera. We begged to be allowed in because we lived in Ghana. We promised the inspector we’d go right to Peace Corps from the airport and get our shots. He let us in. We went right to the Peace Corps office, and we got our shots.

Yesterday went quickly. I changed my bed and threw the laundry down the cellar stairs. I read most of the afternoon and the evening though I did have TV on later to watch a movie. I counted it as a day well spent.

Welcome spring!

We didn’t go to the beach to welcome the sunrise. We got the days wrong, but it is raining so we wouldn’t have seen the sun anyway. The wind is really strong, strong enough to have a voice. It is a good day to be home.

Henry has discovered that the dog door works two ways, not just out but also in. It has only taken him almost two years to figure that out.

I don’t go out every day. Some days I don’t even get dressed. I can’t remember the last time I wore other than my cozies in the house and my comfy casuals outside the house. I don’t need to be busy. I can sit all day and read. I like an afternoon nap. I thumb through catalogs and magazines. The time passes without me noticing. When the dog gets pushy, I know it’s his dinner time. That’s when I realize the day is passing into night.

Gwen now meows from the stairs. She doesn’t come down, but I think she’ll soon be joining Jack, Henry and me. She follows me into my room purring the whole time. I think she knows she is home.

I can see cars in my neighbors’ driveways. They are not at work.

I could use a few things from the grocery store. I was going to get up and go to the elderly only shopping hours, but I chose to sleep in. My friend said the line into the store was snaking outside and not all the people waiting were older (okay, old). I have a list. Maybe tomorrow, early, I’ll shop at one of the smaller grocery stores. I want to make sure I’m provisioned enough for an extended stay in the house. I’m going to call Agway and order dog and cat food. They are delivering. Stores and restaurants are doing all that they can to help knowing we need each other.

The world has become an unfamiliar place, a scary place.

Today is rainy and gloomy. The temperature is 42˚. It is a quiet St. Patrick’s Day. All the pubs and bars are closed. Massachusetts is shut down: schools and businesses are closed, and nearly all gatherings canceled. I figure this is the time to celebrate with friends.

When I was in St. Patrick’s Shamrocks drill team, we marched in the South Boston St. Patrick’s Day parade, cancelled this year. Along the parade route, drunken men would march beside us chit-chatting and offering us sips of beer. We were told to ignore them. As if we could. They’d leave us after we had moved on, beyond their local bar. After a couple of years, we no longer marched in South Boston.

My mother sometimes had a St. Patrick’s Day party. I always drove up to my parents’ house for the event. She gave great parties. I remember my father and my uncle Jack singing Irish songs in the kitchen and all of us joining in with them. The kitchen was filled with people. The windows steamed, and the cigarette smoke had us opening the back door. The parties always lasted into the wee mornings. I miss those times.

On my dog Shauna’s first St. Patrick’s Day, my father gave her a plate of corned beef and cabbage because she was Irish. My father loved his corned beef and cabbage. I know I’ve told this story before, but I always remember on St. Patrick’s Day. My mother had cooked the traditional dinner and was putting my father’s dinner on his plate. She couldn’t find the potatoes. She looked under the meat, no potatoes. She looked through the whole pot, no potatoes. She dished out my dad’s dinner and brought it to him. “Where are the potatoes?” was his first comment.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!!