Fiorella is glad that she'll be seeing her two Texas kids in person today, but it'll be with them on the other side of her front door which, luckily, is glass. Your girl is going to shove a big box containing Husband's poetry collection out onto the porch before they arrive in hopes Daughter will claim it like she said she would several months ago. Fio will also ask Son to go into the house by way of the garage and pull a heavy box out into said garage while Fio blocks up herself and Doggie in the front room.
Preparing to move while the virus is running the show is not the easiest thing in the world.
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Can anyone out there tell Fiorella how to take herself back to the place in the manuscript she stopped writing the romance-of-the-century an hour or whatever ago? Holding a button down while the machine goes through eighteen or so chapters to get back to where Fio stopped in the middle of a rapturous scene is not only irritating but a waste of time.
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Speaking of irritation, how is it that Fiorella found Ann McCoy's story last week, but can't find it today? Is Sonia Dog hiding things from Mommy?
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Fio never knew there were so many heartless and stupid people around until the virus reared its ugly head. From drinking Lysol to threatening medical personal, the know-nothings are in full bloom.
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While she was going through her file drawers, your girl found masses and masses of college papers that she now can't make heads or tails of. Even worse, she found assignments that she had given to her own students that now totally baffle her.
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