But then, it's weird. Like I'm living in a constant state of half-worry, half-chill. Like...I know we're restricting contact and being smart and it's kind of nice just to do whatever I want without having to worry about going into work, but then I get slapped in the face with a reminder when the delivery girl accidentally touched my finger when I signed for my package today and I rushed to the sink to wash my hands before I inadvertently touched my face.
Speaking of. DUDE. I never realized just HOW MUCH I touch my face before. Frankly, that's the hardest part most of the time. Rubbing my eyes. Scratching my nose. Resting my hand over my mouth. Why can't my hands stay away?
Alicia and I watched "The Good Boys" tonight. I wanted something funny and it delivered. It's juvenile humor, and the language is raunchy, but it's surprisingly sweet. I recommend it.
