the ocean

So the Fourth of July came and went. Usually we go to a friend's party for the holiday, but of course everything is cancelled this year for the plague, so this year I was just with my mom and my sister's family. We watched Hamilton on Disney+, which was surprisingly entertaining for something I've heard enough times to more or less have memorized. We also taught the kids to play MarioKart, by which I mean they each sat in someone's lap and jerked on the controller occasionally, resulting in a race where two of the eight drivers just sat in the grass the whole time. So yeah, fairly solid. Aubrey got so scared of the fireworks that she basically shed ten pounds, but that's an annual affair.

Going back to work after (of course not in sense of physically changing locations, God forbid) was not easy, I must admit. This week seemed really long and kind of unnecessary. It's almost as though conference calls and online shopping can't fill the void from, you know, actually leaving the house. We did finish the first season of Friday Night Lights, because this is the mid zeros and we're all still rocking tube TVs and clamshell phones, which we rather enjoyed. It's too bad they never gave out Emmys for best hair, or Connie Britton would not have been so unjustly overlooked. We also discovered an online conspiracy theory that posits that Wayfair is selling child sex slaves disguised as $10,000 cabinets, so that's something. The Internet really does know everything.