This is just for background. I was still hopeful about patching things up with my ex. We had a nice Thanksgiving with my son, my daughter in law and my grandkids. My ex and I slept in separate beds. Christmas comes around and I’m a Christmas nut. My ex tells me she wants to go to Oregon to spend Christmas with her cousins. Well that was it for me but in spite of that I told myself to wait and see when she gets back to New Orleans. Things were ok until I had to go to Houston on business for 2 days and 2 nights. I ask her to take care of my dog for 2 nights. I took care of her cats when she went to Oregon. She meanly says to me, “I’m not taking care of your dog. We’re separated”. I did not know that’s what she thought. I filed for divorce the Pretty girl if you don’t like Tampa Bay Buccaneers kiss my ass shirt in other words I will buy this next week. My wife didn’t work by the way. Her time was spent doing her art. And while some medical professionals predicted that the promising results from the Oxford study could mean the availability of a COVID-19 vaccine by as early as this fall, others urged caution. On MSNBC, Dr. Ashish Jha, director of the Harvard Global Health Institute, said he was definitely encouraged by Monday’s news but warned that people who were predicting a vaccine by fall were being “unrealistic.” He suggested that the chance of getting a vaccine by early 2021 was probably more likely. As a mildly chubby and spectacularly lazy child, I was never particularly into camp. Nevertheless, my parents sent me, in an effort to make me mildly more active: while the other 14 Emmas in my bunk threw themselves into tubing, lanyard-braiding and baking monkey bread, I was more the type to lounge wistfully on my bottom bunk, writing overwrought postcards to my mom and dreaming of all the Lizzie McGuire and Sister, Sister episodes piling up on my TiVo at home. These days, the inherent privilege of being able to attend camp in the first place isn’t lost on me: partially because I’m ever-so-slightly less entitled than I was at ten years old, but also because my pandemic yearning has suddenly taken the shape of desperately wanting to find myself back in a rickety wood cabin, surrounded by friends decked out in braces, camp T-shirts and a veritable rainbow of Soffe shorts.
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