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?