Pace Yourselves

 I noticed something a bit odd while we were walking the dog this weekend: about a third of the houses in our neighborhood already have Halloween decorations in their yards. Oh, I'm not talking about fall decor in the form of pumpkins or scarecrows, either. It's officially fall and by all means, stack your gourds to the Lord and enjoy that pot of mums on your front porch. I mean ghouls and graveyards and gore. It seems a bit strange to me, given that it's not even October yet, and I commented as such to my husband, who told me (as he typically does) to calm down.

Don't get me wrong, you know I love a holiday. My bins of Halloween decorations are down from the attic and at the ready for Thursday, because according to my trusty calendar, that is October 1st (I can't help myself, I'm a consummate rule follower). October has thirty-one whole days in it, and I would argue that is more than enough time to enjoy all the all-hallows spookery your heart would desire without getting a September jump start. At this rate, y'all are going to be sick and tired of those fake spider webs in your shrubbery by the middle of the month and your plastic Santas and Christmas lights will be up by October 15th. I guess we'd better go ahead and carve the Thanksgiving turkey tonight for dinner and hang the stockings up after dessert. Pace yourselves. There is fun to be had, but we don't have to rush it.

It's not that I don't love it. It's just that I love it more in October.

It's been a rough year and we are all desperate for any kind of fun and distraction any way we can get it. I just want to point out that the Halloween decorations look fantastic during their appropriated Halloween month, but any other time of the year it kind of looks like your home is the site of some kind of Satanic cult ritual. I know it takes a lot of time and planning to plug in that eight foot tall red inflatable winged demon with the hissing sounds, but maybe he can wait until trick-or-treat month to make his hell-hath-no-fury appearance in the cul-de-sac? Just a thought. All these faux graveyards and severed limbs and fake rodents certainly add curb appeal, I wanted to maybe hold off a smidgen longer on festooning my house with them. Maybe a few more days? No?

I read that Reese Witherspoon threw a New Year's Eve party last week, because "we're ready for this year to be over." Reese, honey, we are all right there with you, and if that would work, I would had the confetti and streamers and champagne out about three months ago, ready to usher in a whole brand new year that is anything but this one. I think we are going to have to muddle through this 2020 thing just a little while longer, so we might as well not do it at some kind of strange breakneck holiday speed pace. Now, I'm sure some of you have Valentine cards to make and Easter eggs to die, and I've said my piece. Happy Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year!

Reese's New Year's party last week. If only it were that easy.

Restitution

As I type, a discussion about conduit is happening via Zoom (of course) behind me at my breakfast room table. I am not in the market for conduit at the moment, nor is conduit or the elaborate planning of electrical rooms a particular hobby of mine. No, this is 2020 and our lives have all been dismantled disrupted, and so here I sit, listening to another of my husband's conference calls. He's been working from home since mid-March, and while most of the time it's tolerable, there are days when I long for what used to be my normal life. There was less conduit talk then. 

I am a housewife, and so, I was already working from home before the pandemic. My home is my work, and as a creature of habit, I had a comfortable routine and a relatively quiet and happy existence before COVID-19 came and crashed the party. I suddenly found myself quarantined with a new puppy and my beloved spouse, which has not left me with much time for quiet (and I'm taking the happy any way I can get it). At any point during the day, one of the living creatures in my house is looking for me and curious about whatever it is I am doing and how and why I am doing it.

So here's the deal, 2020: I want restitution. I'm going to need something to pay back these months of masks and distancing and general the-whole-world-has-lost-its-mindness. Time is something we can never get back, so I'm not going to bother asking for that; in fact, let's just rush full speed ahead and get this whole plague situation over with, shall we? I heard our infectious disease fearless leader Dr. Anthony Fauci say last week that this coronavirus situation could quite possibly last through 2021. A headline today--and I will clarify that I blatantly refused to read the article with the details--warned that we could be wearing masks and social distancing for two or three more years. Well, if that's the case, I will probably go stark raving mad. I would rather drink a 32-ounce Thirstbuster of Diet Pepsi than continue this COVID confinement any longer...and if you know me and my feelings about Pepsi, you know that is a bold statement.

Until this mess is resolved and we can all quit having nightmares about the toilet paper shortage we lived through, we've earned a few things from this ridiculous year. 2020 has taken away so much, here is what I'm thinking it can give us back:

For starters, no one is getting older this year (with the exception of those who were eagerly awaiting milestone birthdays to drive cars or buy booze). We can barely find ways to celebrate since we can't go out or come within six feet of each other, so these birthdays clearly don't count. I think most of us feel like we have aged ten years since March anyway, but the least 2020 can do it give us a mulligan on aging.

In much the same way, calories don't count right now. The grocery store has become a Hunger Games-style gauntlet of angry people and empty shelves. If I'm going to endure that experience, the odds are pretty high that I'm going to come out with some tasty comfort food. Week after week I have attempted to buy rabbit food, only to see the long lines, the directional arrows creating a maze I have to navigate, the out-of-stock signage and just gone and bought kettle chips instead. Crunching is great stress relief, and a release not provided by protein shakes and steamed vegetables. While I'm at it, a serving of ice cream is now one pint. No need to measure, you're quite welcome. I'm sure that calcium staves off coronavirus--hey, it's as reliable as any of the other virus information we've been given, am I right?

In related news, pants are now optional. I mean, you do need to cover your, er, assets when you venture out and about, but I think it's time that we adjust our tolerance for leggings. Judge not, lest ye be forced to button a tight pair of jeans just go to stand in line with your upper lip sweating under your face mask as you wait to buy the last Clorox wipes in the entire universe while standing six feet apart, separated from mankind by plexiglass dividers. 2020 owes us a more relaxed dress code. It's the least she can do.

Do you remember when that organization guru, Marie Kondo, was all the rage? She said if an object does not spark joy, you should get rid of it. Well, this is 2020 and I say it's time to Kondo your life. The world around us is not sparking joy, so fill it with anything good and fun and joyful that your little heart desires. Want to go ahead and put up the Christmas tree? Go for it. Buy matching pajamas for you and your dog? You deserve it. Bake that bread, buy those shoes, read a book that's way below your IQ level, watch some trash TV. I've got 2020 on my calendar, and I'm trying to, as the vacation bible school song always said, get that joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart. When all else fails, I recommend tacos.

I hate when people say "this is the new normal." Bless their hearts, there is nothing normal about these times we are living in. I say it's high time we started turning the tables on 2020 and demanding a little something back in exchange for our troubles. Get off your computers and go get yourself a little restitution. And if that includes dog pajamas and kettle chips, I promise I won't judge.

This woman has clearly found ways for 2020 to bring her joy. Well done!