Welcome to my blog! 🙂
It’s Memorial Day. Technically for me, being a freelancer, it’s Monday. I’m working today. But really, what else is there to do anyway? I’m not in any hurry to go to the beach. I never wanted to go to the beach before the damn pandemic.
Today we honor the fallen. And in that vein, an extra moment of silence for the nearly 100,000 people in the U.S., and many more globally, who have died from Covid-19. These are scary, uncertain times. Today, I’m grateful to be well and working, even though I feel like there’s a specter over my head, over John’s, over the heads of everyone I love.
Today is also a day of entirely different memories for me. On Memorial Day 1996, I got my very first adult consensual spanking. That one action changed my life. Lifelong fantasies became a reality that was so much better than I could have imagined. I started a new journey that took me to the most amazing places, to meet so many incredible people and have experiences I didn’t even dream of. All from a tall, handsome gentleman, whose last name I never knew, who came briefly into my life and turned my world upside down and inside out. Wherever you are, Paul, thank you. Again. I hope you found what you needed and wanted.
Today I remind everyone out there who is still ashamed, closeted, embarrassed, feeling like there’s something wrong with them — there isn’t. Societal dictates about relationships, sexual activities and fetishes are highly overrated. As long as you are hurting no one, as long as you are safe, sane, consensual and respectful, your desires are part of who you are. Embrace them, and dare I say, enjoy them. Because life is too fucking short not to.
Today, I can’t help comparing Memorial Day twenty-four years ago, when I brought an almost perfect stranger into my home and engaged in highly physical activity, with today, when I can’t even meet someone for a cup of coffee. Recently, a correspondent wrote, “It seems the days of meeting for coffee are behind us.” Oh my god, I hope he’s wrong. Because that is a truly depressing prospect.
Today, I’m dealing with a whole lot of powerlessness. A lot of feelings. Fear, anger, nervousness, sadness, uncertainty. Yesterday, John wasn’t feeling well, and of course, my mind has gone to all the worst possible places, even though it’s probably just a damn headache and perfectly innocuous. This year’s taxes have been postponed, but they are due soon and I owe a ton of money, because my quarterly taxes were underestimated last year and I ended up making more than my accountant and I thought I would. Trying to stay in the moment — it’s hot outside, but my place is nice and cool, I have plenty to eat, I am feeling okay. I can’t think past this moment in time or I’ll drive myself crazy. I’m not alone in this, I know. So in the midst of the craziness, there is gratitude.
Today, I’m grateful for friends, for people who have stayed the course, who are still with me and haven’t disappeared. I hope I get to see some of you in the future when all this is behind us, whenever that may be. ♥
Please take care of yourselves, and be kind. We are all on edge right now. The slightest gesture from another can pull someone back from the ledge… or push them over it. Which one do you want to do?
If you can, go play. And revel in it 100%. Celebrate your kinky wonderful self. Remember those who have gone, and honor them by living your truest life.
Before I get to the subject of this post, an update on my friend with the virus. She is in the middle of Week #3. Still having fevers, still having O2 drops, and her exercise for the day is taking a shower. She has made two trips to the ER. However, her lungs are clear and unaffected, so the hope is that her body is simply exhausted and will rally after a time.
I remind you — she is fit, strong, and only 31 years old. You guys do not want this virus.
Anyway, enough of that.
In these days of social distancing and quarantining, if you’re a spanko and you’re fortunate enough to live with a spanking partner, more power to you. If you don’t… then as far as getting these needs met, you’re essentially screwed. No parties. No play dates. Not even small get-togethers, because even if you do have a limited gathering, you have to maintain distance. Anything tactile is off the table for now. Which cuts out… well, everything.
So what are people doing in efforts for some satisfaction? Seems you can do one of two things. You can either satisfy the physical craving and self-spank, or you can forgo the impact and focus on the head space part of things, by either FaceTiming/Zooming or talking on the phone. In other words, virtual scenes.
Some people are blessed with wonderful imaginations. Their minds can take them into the deepest and darkest recesses, simulating what they desire. They can take a paddle to themselves while imagining that Mr. or Ms. Deliciously Toppy is doing it. Or they can use a visual on a screen or a voice on the phone and put themselves into the same head space they feel when it’s in person.
Sadly, I’m not one of those people.
I have tried self-spanking a few times. I figured if I could achieve sexual satisfaction by masturbating, I could scratch the spanking itch myself, right? Wrong. It is so not the same. First, it’s physically awkward, and very hard on the shoulder. I don’t need anymore shoulder issues after dealing with shoulder impingement syndrome all last year. Second, there is no way I can get the angle and speed and distance good enough to make a proper impact. And finally, perhaps most important, it makes me feel ridiculous. Not the feeling I’m going for.
So then we move onto the virtual stuff. Instantly, Zoom and FaceTime are out for me on my old computer. It doesn’t have a built-in mic, and my every effort to use an external mic has failed. For whatever reason, I get picture, but no audio. My tech practically took the thing apart and couldn’t figure out what was wrong. So until I get a new computer, that’s out. I suppose I could video chat on my phone, but the small screen is a hindrance.
So that leaves the phone. A disembodied voice + my imagination. Not something I’ve ever found fulfilling in the past. But in these times, needs must. We do what we can. We try things. We endeavor to broaden our horizons. Especially someone like me, whose horizons are admittedly rather narrow.
I was talking with a gentleman from Alt.com, a very interesting and bright man, good conversationalist, funny. He is local, but we had already determined that our kinks in person wouldn’t mesh properly. No one’s fault; it is what it is. However, since no one is doing anything in person right now anyway, he suggested we try a phone scene. He said he had a lot of experience weaving fantasy scenarios and all I would have to do is stay engaged and keep answering his questions, so he’d know in which direction to go (or not).
Because he was so articulate and seemed confident about his abilities, I thought, oh, what the hell. Go for it. Life is short, and fun is at a premium right now. It’s human contact, it’s kink, it’s exciting. Give it a shot.
So, last Monday, I called him at the time we’d designated, right on time. I had my cell plugged in so the battery wouldn’t die. Per his suggestion, I had water nearby and no TV or any other distractions on. We fell into easy conversation and the first hour or so was just vanilla get-to-know-you stuff.
Remember, I’m not a fan of the phone in general. I’d rather email or text people. About the only person I speak to regularly on the phone is John. That said… would you believe we were on the phone for six hours and twenty-seven minutes???
He was, as promised, very imaginative and there were no lags in the conversation. He needed a lot of feedback from me — whenever he said something or another, went in a particular direction, he’d ask me to rate how I liked it — a little, medium, a lot, extremely. Just saying “Yes” wasn’t enough. I can understand that; he had nothing else to read, not being able to see me, see my bodily reactions. A couple of times when the scenario went in a way I didn’t care for, he switched gears immediately without faltering. And he had a wonderful voice, deep and rich. A radio host voice. (And by the way, I saw his picture — he does not have a “face for radio,” as the saying goes. 😀 He’s quite the attractive man.)
I let myself feel, and to the best of my ability, I tried to imagine. My body reacted. We took breaks, used the bathroom, drank water, checked in, etc. But the action was almost continuous. Without spelling out any details, we went to some dark places, darker than I usually go, but I felt safe doing so. I came four times. When I was starting to feel rather selfish, he finally did too. Then we talked for about another 45 minutes to an hour.
Something of note happened, toward the end. After my third intense orgasm, I started to cry.
“What are you thinking right now?” he asked. “What do you want?”
Without thinking about it, I blurted, “I wish you were here! I want to feel your hands on me, your arms around me. I need impact, I need physical contact, I need I need I need…” and I kept babbling on and crying. He was very kind, and in a few minutes I calmed back down.
But there it was. I. Need. The. Real. Thing.
This was fun, and he was lovely. He worked hard to give me some pleasure. I did have an intense emotional release, and some laughs and titillation. I don’t regret doing it at all; I’m glad I did. But I don’t think I’ll be doing it again. Hell, I’d love to talk with this man again. As friends. He’s fascinating. And so damned smart. But virtual doesn’t cut it for me. It was hard for me to give the constant verbal feedback; in person, it’s not as necessary. You have breathing, you have body reactions, you have skin color. A bottom can simply sink into the space of the scene, stop talking and just feel. Is it better than nothing at all? I suppose. But I experienced a kind of rebound.
When we got off the phone, I was delirious with tiredness. It was nearly 3:00 a.m. But I was also really hungry, and still a bit keyed up; I couldn’t just shut everything off. So I made myself something to eat, then answered a couple of emails. Then I even did a bit more work. By the time I went to sleep, it was 4:30.
I was very relaxed but exhausted the next day, and in a fog of unreality. I went through the motions of the day, worked, managed to work out, although I had to break the session in two because I hit a wall and had to stop and take a nap. I finally caught up with my sleep and by Wednesday I felt back to normal.
And extremely frustrated. The craving for play had come back with a vengeance and a ferocity.
Not his fault. Not mine either. It’s just the way it is. I need what I need, and all the facsimiles and simulations and fantasies and discussions and pictures painted with words just won’t cut it.
For those of you who have better imaginations than I do, I salute you and I envy you your ability to suspend disbelief and immerse yourself in what’s available to you. Me? I don’t know when the hell people will be able to play in person again safely, but until then, looks like I’m going to do without it.
I’m working. I’m healthy. John is well. I have a place to live and I can make rent. Life goes on, and this is not the end of the world.
It’s just kinda fucking frustrating.
Have a great weekend, y’all. Please be safe and take care.
No kink talk today. I am sharing a post from a friend, who is currently on day 12 of having COVID-19. And no, she is not old, or immune system compromised, or high risk of any kind. She is early 30s, fit and in great health. And no, she is not an angry, militant sort. I’ve known her for several years and I’ve never seen her this pissed off or blunt. Normally, she is a very upbeat and cheerful person. Clearly, she has reached her saturation point. Oh, and she lives in Georgia, where the governor is relaxing restrictions.
Please, my friends. This is real. Please read this, from a real person, someone I love. And wherever you are, whatever your rules are, heed them. Yes, this new normal is a pain in the ass. Yes, we’re frustrated. Yes, we need to go back to work. But you will not die from unmanicured nails or uncut hair. You can talk to your friends via Zoom and FaceTime. You can still go out and take a walk. You are alive and well… these measures are in place to keep you that way. Not to “restrict your freedoms.”
Anyway… that is all I can say; it’s been said a million times already. I just thought that the words of someone actually living through this might make an impression. ♥ By the way, on Day 11, she did end up going to the ER because her breathing got so difficult.
* * *
UPDATE 5/9: Day 10. Today has been the hardest day so far. I woke feeling decent besides the ever-present fever, but the moment my feet hit the floor, that changed. My cough, which had been mild and occasional, suddenly became unrelenting.The shortness of breath that came with it was terrifying. I could barely catch my breath before the next bout began. I thought a warm shower would help, but instead found myself barely able to stay on my feet as the coughs doubled me over and sapped what little energy I had left. I’m glad [her husband] was there to help me.
By the time I made it to the couch, my chest was in pain, my lower lungs ached, my body was tingling, and I was nearly passing out whenever I tried to move. The muscles in my neck hurt from breathing so fast, trying to keep up with the oxygen my body seemed to be screaming for. I just kept telling myself to stay calm, because panicking only makes everything worse.
My pulse oximeter showed that my oxygenation was in safe range, so I took several cough medicines and tried to find a comfortable position to breathe it out. It took a couple hours before I could breathe with ease again, but the medicine eventually worked its magic. I am still feeling pretty weak and unpredictable when I try to stand or walk.
My fever had been peaking in the 102’s the last couple days and responding to Tylenol, but today I hit 103’s again. Took Tylenol and an hour later my temp had gone up, not down. 🙁 It’s finally down to 101 now, but I tell you all of this to be brutally honest and say, this is a different beast. This is not “just a flu” and isn’t comparable to any sickness I’ve ever experienced. Will it hit everyone this hard? No, thank goodness. But it is not predictable, and you’re an idiot if you don’t take steps to protect yourself and your family. Wash your hands and wear the damn mask, for your sake and everyone else’s, and for god’s sake stop complaining about your precious freedoms being trampled by someone requiring you to cover your damn mouth and nose in public, crowded areas. I’m pretty worn down and REALLY f’ing over it.
That’s right, kids. We’re still in the middle of a pandemic, things are still locked down, the whole damn country has been turned on its ear. But what never changes? The pervs just keep on perving. The jackasses keep on engaging in jackassery.
I’ve missed blogging, but when life is just a series of SSDD (Same Shit, Different Day), there’s not much to write. One more bit of regrettable news: TASSP, the June party in Dallas, has been canceled. At this point, I’m wondering if Shadow Lodge (formerly Shadow Lane) will happen over Labor Day. The more I think about it, the more I am so grateful that John and I made it to 50 Freaks, quite literally under the wire. I mean, the damn COVID-19 thing exploded a week or so after we came home. I am grateful to have those memories, because the rest of this year has sucked so far.
Anyway… here’s the first jackass, on Twitter:
Go take your meds.
I bet your the life of the party.
This is from the kink ads site:
You have a glorious delectable body, i would literally do anything to taste you
I’ll travel to you. Nothing I love better than licking sucking probing tasting pussy making your sweet yummy pussy juice filling my mouth. running down the crack of your ass my tongue lapping madly at your asshole getting every sweet yummy drop, my tongue will lick suck probe everywhere after I give you orgasm after orgasm after orgasm making you scream cream and begging for mercy. Then i will fill your sweet little rosebud with hard hot throbbing cock, let me know if you want to get better acquainted. I will make you submit to me. After car3 GUARANTEED. If you like rope, confinement or even suspension, I’m very practiced. Gently yet stern. If not this MASTER/dominant, look at fetlife.com, it’s totally and completely free. No scammers. Let me know if I have been of any assistance
If not me I am sure you can find what you desire LOCALLY. MASTER/Dominant Xxx
(clutching my head) Good grief…
WTF is After car3? Oh, of course… aftercare. (I put it through my Moron to English dictionary.) I don’t even know where to begin with this atrocity. I know I’ve asked this countless times, but really, who actually thinks that writing this kind of crap is going to make a woman drop her panties and come running? On what planet? Bleccchhhh.
I felt so unclean after reading this, I updated my status on Alt. Something along the lines of “Guys, just because we’re on a kink site doesn’t mean I want you to write filth to me.”
Aaaand then I heard from this charmer:
Ohhhh cum on now !!!! What kind of bullshit is that ??? You know your pussy gets dripping wet when a mature experienced dominant sadistic man like me speak total filth to you xxxx I love horny cock hungry perverted meat !!!!! So I hope I didn’t make you cry but your fingers are in the elastic band of your panties just waiting to touch your swollen erect clitoris !!!!! Haha haha my deepest apologies to you my slutty fuck but daddy will pleasure myself to your pink panties !!!!! MasterXxxx
Um. No, it doesn’t. No, you didn’t, you just made me sick. No, they aren’t. But if you like you can do something for me. Go find one of those throngs of idiots gathering and protesting the pandemic lockdown because they can’t get their hair cut or their nails done. You know, the people not wearing masks or observing social distancing. Put yourself right in the middle of the crowd, and breathe deep. 😛
For this last one, I’m cheating a little, because it wasn’t written directly to me. It’s a tweet from some jerkoff who claims he’s a radio host (I think his idol must have been Don Imus), a misogynist pig who has so many issues with women, you wonder just what the hell his mommy did to his little soldier. He likes to rail about how BIRTH CONTROL IS NOT A RIGHT (the caps are his) and shouldn’t be readily accessible.
You want free birth control? Duct tape your legs together until you figure what the hell is going on down there and change your behavior. See how easy that was?
I don’t know, kids. I ran this through a translator as well, and got, “I don’t get laid enough.”
No. I didn’t engage with this waste of space. But I’d love to give him some free birth control. With a dull butter knife. Slowly. Painfullllllly.
Truth be told, I may talk smack, but I’m really not a violent person. I’ve never been in any kind of physical altercation. I would never slap a man in the face (exception: the one time it was scripted). I don’t like the idea of hurting people, even if they like it — hence my never getting into switching. But something about this kind of sexist arrogance taps into my inner Lorena Bobbitt. (Yes, I know that reference is dated. I don’t care. It’s still perfect.) I mean, these are the same guys who say women get raped because they asked for it somehow.
Y’all know what a succubus is? It’s a demon in a female form, seductive and irresistible. In my perfect imagined world of justice, these guys end up in their own special version of hell, locked in rooms with insatiable succubi, and they are compelled to copulate with them for all eternity. What’s so hellish about that, you ask? Well… these particular succubi have genitalia that are lined with rows of razor. Sharp. Teeth. And eternity is a looooooong time, boys. 😀
In short? I am totally fine with you if you have a dick. Just don’t be one, k?
And on that note, while all my male readers cringe… please be safe, please be well, everyone. Hope your weekends are peaceful and virus-free.
I wish I had something interesting to say. But here in Pandemic Paradise, each day is the same. Get up. Dress. Go online. Work. Take a break to exercise. Do some more work. Return texts and emails. Eat something. Work a bit more. Watch TV. Undress. Go to bed. Rinse and repeat.
The only time I leave my building is on Saturday when I head out to John’s to bring him groceries. To get my own groceries. Or for absolutely necessary errands, of which there really aren’t that many right now. I tried for two days to resolve a banking issue over the phone and online and was unsuccessful. So I made an appointment to take care of it in person at my branch tomorrow. Wearing a mask, of course.
And hey, look, I cut my own bangs. Haven’t done that since I was about five years old.
No play, of course. Can’t even go on a pre-play coffee date these days. I miss it. Definitely a First World Problem in the face of death and unemployment and financial ruin, but what can I say. It’s wired into me and I crave it.
Many parties, small and large, have been canceled. Joe is staying positive and hoping Shadow Lane/Lodge can still happen over Labor Day. I’m skeptical. But that’s four months from now. Hope springs eternal. If we’re all still living, that is.
My stepmom turns 89 today. I can’t see her to take her to lunch like I usually do, but I sent her flowers. It’s a crap time to be having a birthday, but I wanted to brighten her day if I could. She loved them.
My moods fluctuate. Sometimes I can hunker down and work, and forget what’s going on out there. Sometimes I can go on Twitter or Facebook and banter with friends. Sometimes I even laugh. Other times, I feel so damn powerless and angry and frustrated I could rip through walls with my bare hands. Other times, I’m so scared, all I can do is break down and cry.
My dear friend Jay sent me a care package a couple of weeks ago. It was completely unexpected and I had no idea what was inside. As I opened the large box, the first thing I saw was a jumbo-sized canister of Lysol wipes. There was hand sanitizer included too. I bawled like a baby.
Another friend had a neighbor knock on her door on Easter Sunday. They backed away when she came to the door, but on the doorstep was a plate filled with Easter dinner, some candy, and half a 12-pack of toilet paper, wrapped with ribbon. This sort of situation tends to bring out the best among us. ♥
Unfortunately, it also brings out the worst. Yeah, I understand wanting to get back to normal life. But the stay-at-home rules aren’t a punishment cooked up to make us miserable — they are to keep us safe. So, to all those ignorant, belligerent little @#$%s out there protesting the quarantine, blocking traffic, carrying your stupid misspelled signs and Confederate flags, spreading your germs everywhere, and whining because you can’t play golf or get your hair cut — do us all a favor. Please feel free to spread all the virus you want among yourselves. Have at it and have an orgy for all I care. Just stay. The Fuck. Away from those of us who are following the rules and want to stay alive. 😦
And for those who attend this thing, or others like it (bring your children?? Jeezus Effing Christ) — oh, so many things I’d like to say. But I will refrain. I’ll just say one thing, paraphrasing Forrest Gump:
“Stupid is as stupid DIES.”
I have just been informed that the above rally poster was a hoax. (Some hoax!) Whatever, thank goodness. However, the picture below is quite real. I stand by my statement about stupid.
For those who can still play, please have fun, escape a bit and blow off some stress. We need to stay strong. We need to find our moments of fun, of joy, of abandon, of release.
And for those who can’t… well. There’s still plenty of chocolate out there.
Or ice cream. And remember, pints are for lightweights.
Please stay safe, friends.
Yup, I’m still here, kids. How is everyone? How are we all holding up in this insanity? I don’t know about you, but it’s the little things that are helping to keep me sane. Things that make me laugh. Or that give me a tiny sense of empowerment in a sea of powerlessness. Hence this post.
Some things never change. Even in the midst of a pandemic, I still hear from the pervs. I’m still getting inappropriate messages. Someone asked why I haven’t done a CHoS lately, especially since I had so much material. My answer was that I really hadn’t been up for it. But then something happened this week that was different.
You guys know that in all the years I’ve been doing this, I would write (on here) what I would like to reply to the perpetrators. It was just fantasy. I never actually replied to any of them… until now. For the first time this week, I wrote back to one of them. I let them @#$%ing have it. And it felt gooooood, dammit.
On FetLife, there are “relationships” you can have with others, including sisters and brothers. I have several sisters on Fet. One of them is Alex (different Alex, not Alex Reynolds, although she’s my sister on there too). This is a very sweet young woman whom I’ve never met in person, but I’ve been in correspondence with for a couple of years and have grown to feel very protective over. Anyway, the other night, she messaged me, warning me about some creep on FetLife who was following a bunch of women and who had written very rude things to her. She then showed me a screen shot of their conversation and I saw red.
He’d written this arrogant little note to her, saying he wanted to be her dom, how much fun she could have with his “Big Dick Energy” (yes, really), and so forth. I would have not answered at all, but she politely wrote back, “No thank you.” It should have ended there. Instead, he wrote back, launching into Uber-Dom speak, saying, “That’s ‘no thank you, SIR,'” and a bunch of other drivel about her bad manners. He ended it by calling her a really nasty name.
She blocked him, and that would have been the end of it. But nooooo. The creep saw that I’m her sister, so he then proceeded to write to me!
I blocked out his FetLife name, but as you can see, the little twit is all of 24 years old. And he wrote the same “Big Dick Energy” BS to me — guess that’s his signature line? 😛 But the reference to Alex and the threesome was the last straw. I wasn’t going to let this stand. I’d reached my saturation point with these creeps.
So… I sent this back to him.
I knew I’d probably opened up a huge can of whoop-ass, but I didn’t care. If he wrote a bunch of nasty stuff back to me, I’d report him.
A few hours went by and nothing. Then later that evening, I heard back from him. I opened the message, bracing myself for abusive filth.
LOL — really? She took it the wrong way? What other way was there to take it, you Troglodyte? Still, I was shocked that he didn’t send me back a lot of righteous indignation. Guess I scared him, the little wuss. Didn’t hear from him again.
Of course, don’t think I initiated any sort of personality overhaul or anything. Next day, I found out he’d written to Alex’s “brother” and top, Zack, telling him how rude she is and how he should “tighten the leash” and punish her for her disrespect. Jeeeezus.
*groan* I wish Zack had also ripped him a new one. But he’s nicer than I am, so he tried to reason with the guy instead. Didn’t get anywhere. Oh, well. Out of my hands now, for sure. No regrets on my end. Like I said, writing that to him felt damn good. It was like striking back after years and years of getting shit like this. Empowerment!
Anyway… yeah, I know this is nothing in the overall scheme of things right now. But like I said, it’s the little things. The mini-laughs, the small victories, the fleeting moments of good feelings among the fear, the anger, the uncertainty.
I work at home, so I basically hole up all week in my apartment and stay there. I use the gym equipment in the apartment building, wiping it down first. Grocery shopping has been quite the adventure, although I have discovered the odds of finding things are better if you go early. I went at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m. this week and actually scored some toilet paper and antibacterial wipes, which I hadn’t seen in weeks. My bangs are growing into my eyes and my gray roots are spreading. I miss all the little things we take for granted every day.
John is an essential worker, so he is still going to the office three days a week, but he’s in an isolated office with no one else and all communications are done via phone and teleconferences. He works at home two days. My biggest terror over this whole situation is his vulnerability, what with his heart condition and compromised immune system. If I catch Covid-19, I’ll probably get over it. If he catches it, it could kill him.
In an effort to minimize his public contact, I go to his place on Saturday morning. Beforehand, I stop and buy all his groceries, as well as food for us for Saturday and Sunday. Then I head to his place, delouse everything and put it away, and we hunker down there until I go back home. We decided that was far less risky than his going out and buying his own necessities. Needs must and all that.
I’m grateful for work, more than I can say. I’m grateful I don’t have children or aging parents to worry about. I’m grateful I was able to pay my rent two days ago. I’m grateful for my friends who check in with me every day. I just have to ensure, a day at a time, that I don’t give in to the fear. That I don’t fall into the abyss of depression. Seeing this the other day made me laugh; I know it’s dark, I know it’s horrible, but for those of us who have been there, we get it.
So. Everyone please stay safe. Stay the @#$% at home as much as you are able to. Turn off the 24/7 news; it’s not good for your mental health and well-being. Stay in touch virtually with your friends. And hang in there. Whatever you are going through, please hang in there. Somehow, we’re going to get through this goddamn pandemic, eventually. ♥ ♥ ♥