The other day a strange package was delivered to my door. It was large, slightly unwieldy and the return address was from some company in China. I didn’t remember ordering anything from China, but then again, I do an awful lot of ordering these days. Tom and I circled it for a bit mulling just what it could be. I gave it a little nudge with my foot for no apparent reason and finally decided that it was safe to pick up – gloves and mask on, of course. Guess what - it was the toilet paper I ordered back in March when we were all terrified that we might have to drip dry forever more and were ordering anything that Amazon said was in stock. And only six months late.
As with any crisis, you learn to make do. Hair has become an issue for many of us and my hair has become a rather strange sight. My sister gave me a perm at home. It turned out pretty well even though it took three separate orders to get all the parts needed. So, the next logical step in haircare was a bit of pruning of the tresses which I did myself. I now have what I call an old-lady mullet. I found that’s quite difficult to trim the hair on the back of your head while looking in a mirror backward. But as I am going nowhere and seeing nobody, but my beloved Tom and our cat, it doesn’t really matter.
I, also, have grocery ordering down to a fine art and I believe that Harris Teeter has the best curbside pick-up service in the area. The only place I actually get out of the car to shop is the nice produce stand down the road. I’ve become quite chummy with the owner. We discuss how very hot it is, what flowers the deer like to eat, and would I like a receipt? The other day he gave me a free tomato! It’s the little things in life.
All silliness aside, I believe this virus has cast a pall over all of us. It’s hard to plan your day when your day looks just like the one before. When weekends are the same as weekdays. When the job you just got back to has lost the personal connection that made it fun, even though it didn’t pay very well. When you can’t play with your grandkids or have tea with your neighbor. When you can’t hug a friend who has suffered a loss. When it really doesn’t matter what time you go to bed because it doesn’t matter what time you get up. I think to myself, this too shall pass, but it seems unlikely it will pass very soon. In the meantime, I’m trying to focus on all the good in my life. I really have nothing to complain about. We’re healthy, have food on the table and a roof over our heads. I just miss my kids and my family and my friends. I miss picking out my own produce and chatting with the pharmacist or the woman at check-out. And then I tell myself that in the grand scheme of things, it could be worse. I could have a Mohawk!
PS: A major shout-out to my favorite new author, Matthew T. Petersen. If you haven't already read any of his work, check out www.matthewtpetersen.com. You'll find some outstanding poetry, a series called the Chamonix Chronicles, and a glimpse at his first novel, The Walk Down.