This Thing Called Quarantine

 

Maybe both, to be honest.

I made the mistake of watching the news this morning, and I don't know why. I heard about the more contagious strains of this virus that have now not only entered the United States, they have made their way into my state, my city, and in fact, my county. I guess they'll be ringing my doorbell by noon wanting to sell my some magazine subscriptions or new vinyl siding. Then I heard that one mask may not be enough so we should all probably be wearing two masks, which sounds positively delightful. And then I did what I should have done all along: I got fed up and changed the channel to the Golden Girls, which I have seen so many times I can quote all the dialogue, but it does not leave me in a state of despair, so there's that. Pass the cheesecake.

What happened to "fifteen days to flatten the curve?" I did my fifteen days. I have eaten takeout and stayed home and washed my hands and worn a mask and avoided coming close to people, and still, here we are. I know it's not technically quarantine (which involves a lot more isolation than this), but it feels like it. It's January and people are eating outside on patios, for Pete's sake. I don't want to drink a margarita on a patio in January, unless I am in some far flung tropical location--which I am not going to until the world opens up again and I can do so with my whole face exposed to the sunlight, mask free, worry free, COVID free. If you want to cut a daiquiri hole in your face mask, you do you, but I think I'll just wait it out.

We learned our lesson about trying to travel during a pandemic back in December when we attempted a little weekend getaway for our anniversary. We decided after that experience that we will pause until the vaccine has been widely distributed and things are more "normal" again before we attempt any more vacations. As Clint so perfectly summed it up, "I'm not paying full price for half the experience any more. I'll wait." You can mask up and pretend you're having fun, but I think I'll just Netflix and wait until I can actually go out and have a good time. 

In the meantime, here we are in North Carolina, where it is recommended that we stay in our homes unless it is absolutely necessary that we go out (and y'all, sometimes it is just absolutely necessary, mmkay?). We have been given a 10:00 p.m. curfew (I feel like I'm in high school), been told not to gather with people outside our immediate household, and our bars and restaurants have been ordered not to serve any alcohol after 9:00 at night. Or, as someone hilariously commented online, "Our governor has challenged our state to get drunk by 9 p.m. Challenge. Accepted." You have to laugh or else you will most certainly cry. 

I was folding clothes yesterday and my husband pulled a pair of navy Adidas track pants out and exclaimed, "my dress pants for work tomorrow!" Sad, but true. Athleisure is the new office wear. Adidas is the new business suit. I haven't worn a pair of high heels in so long I'm going to have to practice in them like I did in middle school when I wore them for the first time. I miss going to church in person. And going to brunch after church. And buffets. And even crowds of annoying people. I miss it all. 

That said, I could have it much worse. I was chatting on the phone to a friend who lives on the west coast and her hair and nail salons have not yet reopened. We were lamenting the fact that at-home pedicures can be done, but do not look the same, when she dropped this bomb on me. "I tell you what I don't miss and I'll never go back to a salon for, though. Waxing." "Oh really? Which kind of waxing?" I needed to know. And then she threw down the gauntlet. Quarantine has my friend now doing her own Brazilian waxing at home, and swearing she enjoys it. Lordamercy. Not this girl. For that particular form of torture, I will gladly pay a stranger to inflict pain on my person and get the job done while I stare at the ceiling and wish it was either over or I was dead, whichever should come first. I'm adding "enjoying at-home waxing" to the alarming list of side effects people are experiencing from being shut in this long.

We were out to dinner last weekend with two friends (I know, what risky behavior!) who have daredly planned a trip to Mexico in the spring. "Do you guys have anything you're looking forward to on the calendar?" they asked. "Nope," Clint and I both replied in unison. We laughed on the way home at how grouchy we sounded, and we did explain to our companions that we meant travel-wise and not that we have nothing in life that we are anticipating giving us any joy! I mean, we have a swimming pool that will be finished in the next month or so (fingers crossed) which will provide us with some much needed entertainment once the weather warms up again. Our back yard has been leveled to total destruction, so I'm looking forward to getting rid of the red mud situation we have been living in, or as a neighbor hilariously quipped, it looks like we live on Mars, the red planet right now. We are both looking forward to getting that vaccine, even though we fall into the last category to be vaccinated, behind the felons and the group home delinquents. And most of all, we are looking forward to the time when this ordeal is behind us, when quarantine is a thing of the past, when we squeeze back into our real clothes again and take our unmasked faces out in the open world.

Until then, if you figure out a way to flatten this now infamous curve, do me a favor and stomp on it, would you?  

Here We Go, 2021

I've never gotten this excited about hanging a banner before.

 A new year is upon us, and I suppose it couldn't come soon enough. Although the arrival of 2021 isn't going to magically cure all our problems, 2020 was terrible for almost everyone, well, except for about three clueless people in my social media newsfeed who keep insisting it was their best and/or happiest year ever. I'll have whatever meds they're having. I think it's best for the lucid rest of us that we turn a fresh page.

2021 has to have the easiest job in the world: just don't screw things up nearly as badly as your predecessor. That leaves plenty of room to dance when you look at the dumpster fire of a year we just wrapped up--I will spare you a recap because you know all too well what we have been through, a completely bizarre year that redefines the word "unprecedented" and had people so out of their minds they were hoarding toilet paper and using perfectly good tequila to make hand sanitizer. Good grief.

It was a year where we were confined to our homes even for the purposes of work and school, so we baked, we binge watched, we home improved. Our dogs were the real winners, with more puppies and rescue dogs adopted than ever before and no fur baby left unattended because honestly, where did their owners possibly have to go? For walks! And more walks. 

2020 took away beloved celebrities like Kenny Rogers, Alex Trebek, Gone with the Wind's Olivia de Havilland, Charley Pride, Sean Connery, Eddie Van Halen, and Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg, just to name a few. We cancelled plans, vacations, reservations, and turned it all into a big staycation as we waited for the months to roll on by. 2021, have we all been waiting for you.

I liken this past tedious year we have endured to an old episode of Designing Women where Julia Sugarbaker gets her head stuck in the banister of the stairs in the Governor's Mansion after being dared to pose for a silly picture whilst on a visit. Much like 2020, it all starts out innocently enough, but by the end, like our dear Julia, we were all feeling trapped and panicked and just begging to be set free already. 

We were all Julia Sugarbaker in the year 2020. Cut us loose. Set us free!

So here we go, 2021. I feel like my head is still stuck in the bannister railing and I'm just waiting in this awkward position for someone to release me. I took a good look around the grocery store this week at all our little faces covered in masks, obeying the signage to limit our purchases of paper and disinfectant products so as not to overwhelm the supply chain and I felt like I was in some kind of apocalypse science fiction movie. (I would prefer to star in some type of old Hollywood glamorous film, given my druthers, but I am rarely given my druthers). 

I'm not sure what this new year will bring, but the good news is that our standards are low. A friend pointed out that this year is already a bit frightening--the mere sound when one says 2021 really does sound like "2020 won," now doesn't it?  If that's what we need to concede to get our heads out of this proverbial bannister, then 2020 won! I consider myself highly competitive, yet I freely admit I was no match for her. As for this new year we embark upon, I have just this humble plea: 2021, keep your highly contagious plagues to a minimum, kindly let us out of the house now and again, and keep on keeping those murder hornets at bay, would you? Happy New Year? I certainly hope.

Ew, 2020. Here's to a kinder, gentler new year!