Everyday is Sunday

I think I am wearing the same sweatpants I wore Sunday. Wait, THIS is Sunday. Or is it Tuesday? Nope, it’s Thursday. I think I have just stared at the wall for another 7 minutes without realizing it. I blame CNN. It is sending me into a depression spiral. Highlights of my day have lately included: cold Kombucha at 2pm, seeing a neighbor on the street and waving at them and tending to the sunflowers. I take comfort knowing that my neighbors are wearing the same sweatpants for the last three weeks as well.

Sometimes I put a shirt on, mostly because I have a Zoom call. At least I have Instagram. It has brought such delicious eye candy, luscious color that melts in my mouth like Salt and Straw ice cream on a Sunday. Amanda Baldwin, Tiffany Alfonseca, and Ian Micheal. They all splash delight and whimsy into my retinas. Nick Doyle makes me chuckle with his magnification of the small mundane objects, he must also be staring at the wall endlessly with me. Aaron Skolnick gleefully texts me new works. Nathan mesmerizes my like button. A comment here, an emoji there…. all these new friends virtually hug me with their works, forging laughter together in our mutually sequestered state. I will always remember the year when everyday was Sunday. Its memories gleefully hanging on my wall. – John Wolf