TCC, Day 10: Why are all of these posts about clothes?

Day ten.

I decided today that people end up on My 600 Pound Life or Hoarders because of fuzzy socks.

We sleep with it really cold in our house, so when I got up and got dressed this morning I put on sweatpants, a jacket, and fuzzy socks. Then several hours later I wondered if I was having a panic attack from thinking about people infecting each other unknowingly and the numbers going up and do we have enough ventilators and the world is so cray right now. (I don't think I've ever actually had a panic attack, so I had no actual life experience or information to back up this irrational thought, but that didn't stop me).

Then I realized the problem was that I was dressed for Antarctic winter and I hadn't eaten anything today. Instead of changing clothes I ate lunch. And then some goldfish. A cookie. Some cookie dough. Some trail mix.

And I felt better.

Until a little while later when I looked at myself in sweats and fuzzy socks and looked around my house straggled with papers and books and games and decided that day ten broke me. I'm a wimp. I could never survive torture or anything like that. Seriously. If you know government secrets, don't tell me. I'd spill the second someone took away my pedicures. It only took ten days for me to become the potential subject of a TLC show. Dramatic, right?

I told myself to get it together and then I got it together. I went for a walk. Straightened up the house. Took off the fuzzy socks.

I am so incredibly grateful for the people who go out into the world and put themselves in actual danger while the rest of us wear fuzzy socks and get all dramatic about it. Nurses and doctors and truckers and everyone else who makes sure we have food and medicine and safety. So, so grateful.

The rest of us, let's keep it together. All we really have to do is stay home.

(However, I do recommend changing out of your fuzzy socks.)