Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, if you thought that my saying that I don't need anybody was but a lockdown-induced hissy fit that I didn't really mean and will take back, well, let me tell you that a hissy fit it might have been, but certainly one that results in action. The action being that I used the lockdown to learn how to fold a fitted sheet. All by myself.  I'm getting more independent by the day. 

Dear future hubster, when the weight of global uncertainty, the anxiety of the future, the grief of what should have been and now might never be, all the plans that ended in disaster, and the boredom of having to cook for yourself for 4+ months seem to get you down, and you wonder whether your future wife also has moments of feeling like garbage, worry not. We all do. I also happen to be dealing with mountains of bureaucracy as moving countries is a procedure you can practice many times and still never be prepared for what the next country or employer or bank has in store for you, under the Ridiculous Requirements tab.  I'm also bored with my own cooking. Starting to get bored with Korean dramas and I'm worried about what comes after. My covid brain stops me from enjoying long reads, but entertains me with crazy dreams instead.  And summer is here, which this year doesn't mean anything it used to mean. My European tour was cancelled before it could take shape, a...

Dear future hubster, I don't know if it's a good thing, but I wanted to let you know that this week is the first time since the lockdown started that my household doesn't have any pesto. Why yes I like living dangerously. 

Dear future hubster, there are a million theories about how the "new normal" will be like. Nobody knows, of course, and that's the most unnerving thing. We don't know what to prepare for. And we don't know what's socially acceptable anymore. For people like me, sticklers for rules and also super anxious about what everybody else thinks it's a special kind of not fun.  BUT. Since "allowed" is no longer going to cut it, and we don't know what others are comfortable with, I expect some groundbreaking habit to creep up on us.  We will have to ask people what kind of interaction and what closeness they are willing to engage in. Is it ok to hug? Can I sit here? Whispering ok, or is that too close? And don't even get me started on the "can I touch you" bits. Basically, we will have to constantly be ASKING FOR CONSENT.  Revolutionary. And it only takes a global pandemic. 

Dear future hubster, It's been a while. I've been hiding away, not just because it's strongly recommended to the point of mandatory, but also because I've been angry. I've been angry with pretty much everybody, and you in particular. I took it very personally that I have to go this alone, got irritated at any advice on how to deal with being stuck inside with your family or significant other, snarkily commenting that yes it must be awful to be with the people you love, and I would snap at anybody who'd tell me to take care of myself. I don't want to, OK? There's supposed to be somebody else to take care of me, so in turn, I can take care of them. Where's my future hubster when I need him most, this is what we were supposed to tell our grandchildren, how grandma made spinach twice a week but also gorgeous garlic bread so grandpa couldn't really complain, and he thought it was funny that she kept bumping into the furniture well into the secon...