Old oven out.
New oven in.
Masked workmen in the house.
Blow frigid wind in.
A nursery rhyme for these pandemic times when all ‘quarantine breakers’ (i.e. oven installers) are met with open windows and a chattery January chill.
When this is all over, will anyone remember how freaking weird it really got?
I’m hoping for retrograde amnesia myself.