OK. So I have been really good during this entire uncomfortable pandemic disaster.

I have, like, hardly complained at all. I’ve been washing my hands so much that my cuticles. Actually. Hurt. I ordered some high end special cuticle cream but, whatever. They’re still dry and sore. It’s awwwwwwful!!!!

I’ve been wearing a mask every single time I step foot outside my door. I mean, yeah. I don’t want to catch any creepy crawly virus thingy. Especially this new one. It comes from, ugh, bats. So gross. So even though my nose gets itchy and my glasses fog up, I still wear my mask. I am SO noble and brave.

I even went on “Etsy” and bought a mask that would hopefully make all those sweaty people in the grocery store think I’m smiling at them, when really I’m trying not to breathe in any of their noxious peasant fumes.

See? I look adorbs, right?

Anyhoo, I am totally being a responsible adult human. I haven’t been out for dinner in ages. I have to cook, like every single day. It’s exhausting.

I barely get to the dispensary once a month. It’s been hard on me. But I have hardly uttered a single peep of complaint.

Except to my therapist, who listens to me once a week on the phone, if you can believe that. She doesn’t even see my face, or my amahzing haircut, which I got from a friend, because I’d never risk my safety by going to a public salon.

Like, eeewwww.

So you can tell that I have been so good for the past 8 months, right? I’ve been practically a saint.

But even I, the most unKaren of Karens, even I have a limit.

And I reached it today.

You see, I was supposed to be having my old, ugly, stained kitchen remodeled this fall. I was supposed to finally be getting shiny clean new cabinets, a modern, updated, awesome floor and brand new countertops.

I’ve only waited 25 years for this moment.

I went through all the steps, including designing and ordering the custom cabinets, buying the flooring, the backsplash, the new sink, dishwasher and fridge, and picking out paint colors. I even have my GROUT picked out, for God’s sake!

A few weeks ago, in anticipation of the big kitchen overhaul, I packed up ALL of my cooking stuff. Food, spices, dishes, cups, pots and pans, cloth napkins and tablecloths. I emptied my entire hutch, carefully wrapping every glass and bowl in newspaper.

It was HARD. WORK. But I did it. All by myself.

And then I waited.

And you know what?

COVID got in my way! Damn, stupid, inconvenient COVID messed up the supply chain, backordered equipment, and generally just gummed up the works.

Even worse, so many inconsiderate people out there are getting sick and dying and causing a big ruckus. It’s gotten so bad that I have had to postpone my remodel until the freakin’ SPRING~!

I know, right? Poor me! Don’t you feel so awful for me?

Sure, my family and I are all healthy, and we have decent jobs and enough to eat. OK, so none of us are being evicted and nobody has lost health insurance. I mean, fine, we all have access to clean water, safe foods, enough medicine and decent internet connections.

But still. My cabinets are OUTDATED! This is an outrage.

Now I have to put ALL my spices back in my old cabinet. I need to unwrap those dishes and glasses.

It’s almost too much for me.

This is one of those moments when I feel my inner “Karen” emerging.

Sympathy cards will be graciously accepted.