I'm guessing that most people know about the HGTV Dream Home.  In case you don't, it's a contest that's been going on for years and years where you enter to win, as the name suggests, a dream home.  The contest is open for a few months and then HGTV drives to someone's house, cameras in tow, and reveals on live television that they've just won.  I can't remember a time when I didn't enter the contest religiously.  There was one year when I was particularly convinced the odds were in my favor.  This was back when I still watched cable tv, and after two months of daily entries, I tuned into the live show where they were going to surprise the winner.  As they drove through the neighborhood to the winner's house, the footage they were showing from outside their car window was definitely my neighborhood.  I was sure of it.  Realizing I wasn't camera-ready, I jumped up to change my sweater and put on some lipstick.  When I watched them ring a doorbell on the tv, I was legitimately confused by the fact that there was no one at my house. 
True story. 

I thought about this today as I was reminding myself how active my imagination can be.  It's generally a great quality that allows for hours of entertainment, but sometimes it works against me.  Over the past few months, this active imagination (I feel like I should name it.  Maybe Perpetua.) has been responsible for countless days of worry and stress.  Perpetua has gone into great detail about how this cancer could end, and I've been working very hard to tell her to put a sock in it.

Fast forward to today, where we all sit in full-fledged coronavirus mayhem. Perpetua has laid out some marvelous horror stories about what happens when I start back up with chemo tomorrow, and my immune system plummets.  She's also scripted some very engaging scenarios about loved ones staying safe in this bizarre and scary time. 

To be safe, I'm staying away from everyone and everywhere.  It's hard to be on such high alert though.  Last week, after much deliberation, Oona left to visit her boyfriend.  Once back, we can't risk her coming home so she'll have to move in with her dad.  Anae is still here but is (understandably) growing weary of being on house arrest.  I imagine she'll leave sometime this week so that she can practice social distancing, rather than isolation.  Part of me wonders if I'm taking these measures too far but both Perpetua, and my oncologist, have given a thumbs up to the strategy.  From six feet away of course. 

During such a frightening time, I hope everyone can keep their Perpetua in line.  I've asked mine to get back to visualizing the HGTV Dream Home.  They'll be announcing the 2020 winner soon, and I entered nearly every day.  Rather than take the big house they offer, I'm going to use my winnings to buy a small house in my sweet little town.  It will have lots of sunny windows, a dog door, and a nice big yard with a garden.  I can see it all, and it's lovely.