Nosed around online and learned that 206 years ago TO THIS DAY, April 11, Napoleon was exiled to the Mediterranean island of Elba. My gosh. The ultimate social distancing package. He lived with Mumsie and Sis in lavish mansions, snacked on cherries with a local mistress, and got to retain his title as emperor, bossing around his 12,000 island subjects.

I have three subjects who refuse to acknowledge my empress status and any cherries in this decidedly unlavish house are placed by me in my online Wegmans cart where I still cannot get a curbside delivery time to save my life.

Furthermore, as Emperor of Elba Napoleon did many useful bossy things like draining marshes, improving agriculture, and overhauling the educational system. I am lauded as bossy by all and sundry yet can barely track the flood of emails regarding all various 9th grade homework assignments. Slowly going insane. Even Napoleon would surely have succumbed to the onslaught of communiqués from our local school district in the past weeks. (Communiqués: that’s French. Much better than “buttloads.” Well done, me.)

In re: sense of humor, so far have only learned that Napoleon joked at least once while on Elba. Surely, in this, I can best him. I’ll tell a joke right now, which Older Child told me yesterday, which Older Child’s friend texted him yesterday: What do you call a prostitute paid in spaghetti? A “pasta-tute.” Okay, that’s terrible. Note to self: investigate why Older Child’s friends are telling prostitute jokes. Suggest to Older Child’s friend’s mom that her daughter get some serious career counseling now, while there’s time, and before the lockdown ends.

In unrelated news, had weird, socially-distant interaction with Mrs. Diagonal yesterday. I was standing on the front porch gulping great breaths of cold air and having a little “me” time (the bathrooms were occupied), and Mrs. Diagonal, who lives directly across and one house over from us, walked by with her horrid little Pekingese, pointing and gesticulating at the stack of Huggies waiting to be picked up. I shook my head to indicate my lack of comprehension; couldn’t hear a thing, as Pekingese was barking its horrid little head off. Mrs. Diagonal gave me a big thumbs-up, blew me a kiss, and moved on remarkably fast for someone roughly one hundred years old. Completely mystified. Will have to investigate…

Note to self: add frozen cherries to Wegmans cart. Husband loves me more when I make a cherry pie.