2020 ... Two

 


2020 ... Two

2020 was a year I would not like to relive. It was pretty much my worst nightmare. And going into the new year that was then 2021 I expected better. Well it wasn't any better and more like a gap year without all the fun. And for me personally it has nothing to do with the Panaderia. It was about having autonomy and it giving it back and tugging at it over and over again. Sometime the Pandora played a role but ultimately it was everything AND everyone but that aiding in my downfall. This year with a recent move and some exchange in the autonomy department I just knew 2022 would be better. I know, I know it has barely started. But for me it all began unraveling just before Christmas and the memes saying that this would be nothing more of a repeat of 2020 or worse didn't help. This isn't a positivity blog nor is it a piece for motivation. It is more of a diary of the absurd with a touch of self help. And as of late it is my burn book for all things gone wrong.

My booster shot made me sick. I wound up in the hospital the week of Christmas for something unrelated. My husband wound up sick on Christmas Day. We spent most of days after arguing over what he didn't do while I was in the hospital. My gifts didn't arrive and still haven't. The deep freezer we ordered in November still hasn't come. The goat cheese, sugar cookie dough and gr√ľnkohl all went bad waiting on it. The bike I had been eyeing on eBay Kleinanzeigen sold. And just like every year on New Years Eve, he began to act like it was any other day. My Christmas cards just arrived on Three Kings. I feel guilty about doing the whole leave the tree up until the 6th because of those people in Philly. And to be really honest, I still feel like shit since by booster. It makes me never want to go outside again. 

The best part about this year thus far is telling my mother to forget about coming here. I have mulled over it for the last six months and each time I suggested it she bailed. Suddenly, she got the bright idea to come on her own. But this just happened to occur the moment the world is in its 50th wave with all sorts of new variants and hybrids affecting everything and everyone. I imagined if she actually wanted to come I would make the most of it. I planned a wild trip all over Europe in short bursts so she could recover and have good memories. Now I cannot do it because everything is fucked. I know it wasn't much better six months ago but now is just the worst time and as much as she has disappointed me - I feel awful about disappointing her. Sorry mom your boomer friends and their grandkids ruined it for us. 

I cannot believe 2020 is really happening all over again. The being sick and scared to be sick with whatever is making people sick. The running around trying to get whatever makes you comfortable or safe. The mail being slow and the restaurants shutting down. The blurry Zoom calls and re-runs on the television. The not knowing what day it is or everyday being groundhog day. My husband thinks I am crazy stockpiling food and going to Aldi tomorrow for XXL packs of toilet paper. But I am feel the impending doom more than anyone and it frustrates me more because we did everything. We got the shots. We got boosted. We ordered the deep freezer. And now the flu decided to have a baby with the Rona. He keeps promising a beach or a pool. It can't happen. I keep promising myself liberation from rigamarole and the world keeps turning. And above all Germany is still Germany and I am still here. 



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