Things i now have time for

Since Covid started, not having to travel for work has created quite the time bonanza.  Between that and not changing out of my pajamas, there are a lot of hours getting freed up.  That has led to some new ways for me to spend my time:

• Looking for the bottle of Pappy Van Winkle that we (I stress WE) received as a wedding present five years ago but that has been hidden from me ever since.  (Which is why we still have a bottle of Pappy to be looked for after five years)
• Watching an entire season of a television series.  This is now what passes for an accomplishment in the age of Covid.  I have actually written “Watch the next episode of Killing Eve” on my to-do list and then later patted myself on the back as I crossed it off.    
• Minute by minute watching of the credit card bill.  We spend HOW MUCH on that damn cat??  After reviewing our monthly spend with the rest of my household, I have learned a lot more about the depth, breadth and value of essential oils and why they are….in fact… essential and worthy of a hefty monthly investment.  (Fortunately, since the lights went out in Nashville, we do not have to have the same discussion of starbucks card reloads and the equally essential nature of $6 coffees.)
• Figuring out how to order ice cream to be delivered right to the front door.  Brilliant!
• Hobbies.  I now have three of them and it is becoming quite stressful. 
• Opening a surprising number of junk marketing emails that are helping me sustain my spending levels despite unprecedented challenges to same.  (I may never go to an office again, but I have a new collection of can’t-be-missed 80% off business suits if I do.)

Things I still don’t have time for no matter how many events/distractions get canceled:

• Sit ups
• Puzzles.  I just can’t.
• My taxes.  Which is even more ironic given I. Am. An. Accountant.
• Learning how to cook.  Apparently, the lack of time was NOT the issue. 

Of course, this is only week five.  I can’t see what week 15 brings to these lists…

Upstairs/Downstairs

During this time of Covid, I am continuing to visit with my mom who lives with my sister because 1) I miss her and 2) she has an inexhaustible supply of chocolate while my supply has turned out to be quite exhausted.  

Admittedly, one would expect Momma McC to be the poster child of social-distancing.  After all, she was social distancing back when we just called it being a recluse.   However, while she is practicing all levels of protective measures, mom still has a caregiver coming in and she still has to go to her coterie of doctors.   We firmly believe she is doing all the right things to protect herself from any sort of exposure.  Nonetheless, it does introduce a wider circle of interaction than the recommended number of ZERO interactions.  Therefore, Rita and I have decided it would be safer for Rita if we self-quarantined in different parts of our house as long as I’m still visiting mom.  That way, I’m only violating the CDC guidelines a little and not trying to audition for a stint as Typhoid Mary. 

So despite travel being entirely eliminated in this country, Rita and I have still managed to conduct a long distance relationship.

The good news is our house seems uniquely built for this sort of self-quarantining.  So much so that I wonder if Rita hadn’t always envisioned self-quarantining from me?!  I hope Rita doesn’t see this Covid thing extending into 2022 “just to be on the safe side”.  See – we have three floors with a basement that has its own kitchen, full bath, sitting room and exit to the back alley.  I call it the Garden Apartment.  If the ice cream deliverers could find it more easily, I would have zero complaints.  Now...one warning…there’s no stove.  But I’ve gone 40+ years without using one of those, so the absence of a stove is 100% aligned with my lifestyle. 

In addition to not spreading a communicable disease, there are a number of other advantages to the Garden Apartment:

• Rita and I can still have dinner together every single night (for the first time ever!) by dining on the front porch together from six feet apart.  Unfortunately, I cannot assist with either the cooking (nothing new there) or the dish washing.  I just have to sit there and enjoy my freshly cooked dinner with paired wine while not sneezing and I have upheld my end of the bargain.
• The wine cellar (which is…after all….just the utility room with a wine fridge in it) is now my closet. Which is terribly convenient because my 5 pm routine of changing out of pajamas and opening a bottle of wine is accommodated in a single destination. 
• Note that every once in a while, it occurs to Rita that I am quarantined in the basement with all of her French Bordeaux and I have to send “proof of life” photos of the "unopened" Chateau Margeaux next to a video of Dr. Fauci correcting Donald Trump’s latest misinformation (so she knows what day it was taken). 
• With no safe access to the laundry machine, I have to leave my dirty clothes in the stairwell where they are later returned to me cleaned and folded.
• Because I can’t touch the rest of the household’s groceries, Rita must do all the trips to Whole Foods.  I just have to give her a grocery list of items to stock my fridge.  Imagine your average dorm food inventory and get the idea.  Whole Foods wants to know why Rita has suddenly started buying large quantities of lunch meat. 

If you ask me, it’s like an inverted version of the upstairs/downstairs of British manors where the aristocracy live in the basement.

Hair today...

A frequent question during Corona is “what do you think will change permanently after Corona”. I fear the answer is my hair color.  

Of all my pandemic regrets, hair maintenance represents more than a few.  Why was I so focused on toilet paper and booze and not getting in for a last-minute cut and color??  And at a minimum, when proper preparation was out of reach, why did I not at least take a picture of my haircut to aid in the archaeological dig that is going to be required at the end of this to get back to my pre-quarantine coif?! 

When it comes to hair preparedness, I am much more Desantis than Dewine.  Tough words indeed.

If I were a hair stylist who is currently not able to work and make money, I would be getting all kinds of creative in planning my grand “every single person in this country needs a haircut right now” reopening.  Like even those annoying semi-annual long-haired clients will be looking for an appointment.  [To which I say to you long-hairers – back of the line!]  Stylists should figure out a way to accept bids for their first appointments so their income matches their client’s desperation.  Speaking for myself, I would be making up for my portion of lost income in order to get a haircut before we all get re-quarantined.  Or maybe they could do like Liberation Week 1 prices of $1,000 and each week it gets $200 cheaper until they get back to normal.  [Don’t judge me, I didn’t invent supply and demand!]

And not only is my hair becoming a mushrooming beehive, but I cannot believe the speed with which the grey is overtaking my head.  Does booze make your hair grow faster?  Asking for a friend.   Usually when I am late to book my monthly color appointment, I assume my height gives me a little leeway where only my fellow basketballers will notice.  But on Zoom, we are all the same height. It is getting increasingly difficult to aim the laptop camera in just such a way as to cut off enough my head to hide the two-tone hairscape.  Next step – eyebrow-aimed camera shots. 

Or more likely, I am just going to have to pick a day in about a week for my very last quarantine video share.  I’m going to go all Walter Cronkite to my co-workers with a dramatic video signoff until all this is over.  “From this point forward...I will only be a video-less voice.  So my video-self says good bye and good luck.”  I think my co-workers will appreciate the dramatic broadcast.  We don’t have enough of those these days.

Or maybe…just maybe…I will try to color my hair myself.  Which are likely to be the last words you hear form me just before I end up with a crew cut.  A crew cut and blog material for the entire month of May. 

p.s., someone get me an updated picture of Suze Orman so I can see if we are all truly in this together.