I am back at the beach, I and realize how lucky I am to have a place to go during a pandemic for a change of scenery. Someone on Facebook commented on my last set of photos, saying to be careful because I could be fined for leaving my county.
I didn’t want to admit that I have two counties. Why rub it in?
The first day was glorious with sunshine and warm temperatures. The next day was cool, cloudy, and windy. It was the perfect day to tackle a walk-in closet that hadn’t been touched for years.
The closet has two huge sliding mirrored doors. It is a third the size of the bedroom. I’ve toyed with the idea of losing the mirrored doors to make my bedroom feel larger. But what would I do with all the stuff?
I took a good look. There was a wooden cedar chest, a short dresser, a tall dresser, and an open shelving cabinet in the closet. Plus piles of clothing, a whole bunch of dolls, Raggedy Anns, some deteriorating feather boas, and framed pictures of scary-faced Victorian women, etc.
I purged the closet in my pj’s, then took a break to take a shower, get dressed, then purged some more. By the time I was done, I had three big garbage bags of clothing and stuff to donate. I’d washed the dampness out of a load of denim shirts (you can never have too many for gardening and saving your arms from getting scratched), and I’d packed up two tubs of too-big-for-me-right now clothing.
There’s nothing like changing your body size yearly to keep things interesting with your wardrobe.
But I digress.
Still no sunshine, but the dogs needed to exercise, so I walked one to the beach and back and played ball with the other one. I visited my neighbor briefly, asking if she knew any preschool or day care that would want some big baby dolls.
I packed up the scary straw doll I’d inherited from my cousin. Would anyone want it? Probably not — but it has been scaring me every time I slide open the closet odor.
I sat down to watch Tully around 1:30 and spent the whole movie sorting tubs and dressing naked dolls.
I’d asked the neighbor if she wanted Barbie dolls to take to Peru the next time she goes.
“I hate Barbie dolls,” she said.
I get it. They have impossible figures with their huge bust lines, tiny waists, and small hips.
“But the girls love them,” she said.
“I’ll get them dressed,” I told her.
The movie turned out to have a surprise ending. I’d never seen Charlize Theron look so bad in a movie before. When it was over, the sun was peeking out through the clouds. I went outside and pulled weeds in the wind, then watched a poignant Ellen show with MLK’s daughter and Ellen’s pledge to keep discussing America’s race problem for as long as it takes to get white people to own it.
A Zoom TGIF meeting at 6:30 was frustrating while the singles’ club president tried to share her screen to show a video, and everyone yelled out suggestions to get it to work.
“Where’s a ten-year-old kid when you need one?” I said.
After thirty minutes of chaos, I signed off to watch an online concert put on by a member of my favorite Beatles’ tribute band. He played for two hours. I added to his virtual tip jar with Paypal.
If we don’t keep these musicians in food and rent, they will be gone by the time this pandemic is over.