So much fixing

I’ve decided to use my Covid as a permanent get out of jail free card. Don’t want to go to an event, “still recovering.” Don’t want to eat something, “I used to like that but Covid messed up my taste buds.” Need to get out of a meeting, “Hey, listen, I feel kind of covid-y. I need to get tested.” I feel like getting Covid was the answer to all my problems, really. I’ve been negative and symptom free for a week now. My sister and her wife just got it. Her wife is the ne plus ultra of manipulative so my sister is no-doubt waiting on her hand and foot — all the while sick herself. Sister-wife has ALL the allergies. She isn’t supposed to eat anything, but she eats everything. She’s kind of pissed that my sister lost weight. She’s also got various and sundry emotional issues. Recently she finished her PhD so now I call her Dr. Sister Wife. There are so many specific details about them I’m scared to note them all here but, wow. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think they should get a divorce or anything. They live in a kind of Sweden vs Canada detente over who can be more icily courteous.  I pretty much have the same kind of weaponized helplessness coming from my husband. Except he pays for things — so it almost balances out. He lazy, though. So lazy. Oh so lazy. Anything he’s tasked with doing, he’ll only do it 25% of the time. Plants go un watered. Turtles unfed. Dog unwalked. Meanwhile he has some very important instagramming to do when he’s not playing tennis or listening to his podcasts. My husband loves the pot. Oh such a stonerella. He smokes A LOT and sometimes our back yard smells like Bonnaroo. I ask him if he can actually see me or if I’m just a laughing skull to him. The very few times I’ve tried the pot he smokes, like 1/10th of the pot he smokes, I had purple haze all through my brain. It was like straight up acid pot. Don’t tell me I don’t know what MK Ultra was like! I had to lay on the floor of the walk-in closet with a wet towel over my head for six hours listening to Enya to come down from that nightmare! So I can understand if you’re having a face melting acid-pot freak out you might not be equipped to fold the towels and put them away. But like I said. He pays for things. Plus he’s very cute. Seriously, how does my husband get cuter as he gets older? Recently he started letting his hair grow out a bit and it’s all curly and cute. Plus the hours and hours of tennis means he’s fit. Meanwhile I look like a forgotten piece of dried rawhide the dog left under the couch — complete with random hairs all over. He is 3 years older than me but everyone assumes I’m older. Like, much, much, much older. People say, “it was so brave of Dean to marry someone that deformed and hideous. I guess love truly is a mystery.” Also, Dean has impeccable fashion sense. I put on whatever garments still fit me and best conceal my Covid fat. He LOST weight during the pandemic. One day he just decided, “I’m going on an anti-inflammatory diet.” Unlike normal people, He didn’t stop in a couple of weeks or months. No, years later he’s still not eating:  anything with white flour, white sugar, dairy or red meat. No cheese, no butter, no cookies, no chips. Nothing fried, good god, no. Really! He just decided this one day and did it without the slightest effort or craving. Is it the acid pot? If I were to go on a diet I would lapse before I could even say “I’m going on a die—- COOKIES!”