Overview
Isolation commiserations from the creator of the iconic “Cathy” comic strip, Cathy Guisewite!
We’re all in this together…but it helps to see someone else with her face planted in the bowl of mashed potatoes. In the same way that Cathy was a relatable friend during the comic strip years, she’s returned to offer some happy relief, support, and a much-needed AACK from isolation.
This little book is a compassionate companion for right now and, long after the pandemic is over, will be a treasured scrapbook of what we survived—the fear of droplets, the work-from-refrigerator wear, the revenge retail therapy of online shopping, the frustration of trying to teach Grandma to Zoom from 3,000 miles away, the little shreds of hope mixed in with the sourdough bread dough.
From the introduction:
I’ve worn the same pair of sweatpants for fourteen months.
I’ve binge watched, binge eaten, binge shopped, binge prayed. I’ve Zoomed. Streamed. Screamed. Googled how to get hot fudge out of a duvet cover. Googled how to chop my insulting blue jeans into face masks. Googled how to permanently delete my Google search history. I’ve meditated, looked within and asked the big questions: “If no one’s allowed in my house for months, what’s the point of vacuuming?”
We’re all in this together…but it helps to see someone else with her face planted in the bowl of mashed potatoes. In the same way that Cathy was a relatable friend during the comic strip years, she’s returned to offer some happy relief, support, and a much-needed AACK from isolation.
This little book is a compassionate companion for right now and, long after the pandemic is over, will be a treasured scrapbook of what we survived—the fear of droplets, the work-from-refrigerator wear, the revenge retail therapy of online shopping, the frustration of trying to teach Grandma to Zoom from 3,000 miles away, the little shreds of hope mixed in with the sourdough bread dough.
From the introduction:
I’ve worn the same pair of sweatpants for fourteen months.
I’ve binge watched, binge eaten, binge shopped, binge prayed. I’ve Zoomed. Streamed. Screamed. Googled how to get hot fudge out of a duvet cover. Googled how to chop my insulting blue jeans into face masks. Googled how to permanently delete my Google search history. I’ve meditated, looked within and asked the big questions: “If no one’s allowed in my house for months, what’s the point of vacuuming?”
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