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!