Saturday, June 27, 2020

Never Say Never

Most times we muddle through our day to day routines with only minor deviations from the norm. Maybe we choose a different breakfast cereal, perhaps wear a new pair of shoes, throw caution to the wind and order a pizza with both onion and sausage. Not so of late, as our routines have been anything but. Forget trying a shortcut on the way to work: we never leave our homes. Trying on a new outfit? You're probably rotating through a collection of sweatpants and tee shirts. And your diet has been defined as an endless cycle of pasta, chicken and burgers, then back to pasta again. If it's Tuesday it must be meat sauce.  

More likely there is a whole new set of "normals" that you would never have even dreamed about unless you were a consumer of dystopian fiction. I can't be the only person that has read a novel where civilization has to cope with a mysterious plague with frightening consequences and thought "Thank God I'll never have to deal with that!" And yet here we are. Depending on when you started making chalk marks on the wall of your bedroom tallying the days of our confinement, it's been more or less three months since all this dislocation has started. And in that time, what at one time seemed wildly unlikely behavior has morphed into your new day-to-day.  

The staying home part is probably the biggest change. BC we were constantly in motion, going to work and school, stores and restaurants, gyms and movies. We thought nothing of popping out to get a carton of milk or taking a ride to pick up a birthday card. Don't feel like cooking? Then let's head to a restaurant, maybe stop for some ice cream after. Even if we had nowhere to go we went there anyway: we might take a ride to a city or town just to take a walk, wander in and out of stores, grab a cup of coffee and sit on a bench to watch the passing parade. No more. Most of time we circulate through our available living spaces, maybe venture out once a day for a walk around our neighborhood just to stretch our legs. We live our lives through screens and – well – that's pretty much it.  

On the rare occasions that we do dip a toe into the outside world we treat it as if we are entering enemy territory. The difference is that the bullets are coughs and sneezes, and the soldiers are invisible. I was always a firm believer that you shouldn't be too precious with your immune system, that it needed a little workout to keep in shape. Not that I was licking the floor or anything, but prior to March I did use handrails with abandon, mingle with crowds and boldly shared a bowl of dip and chips. Now I keep my hands in my pockets, wear gloves when I don't, and wash everything down constantly. And yes, whenever I am in proximity to other people I look like a masked bandit.  

That all said, I also feel I have to draw the line. There are reports that while travel is down, there has been a keen uptick in the rental of RV's. Many of these are luxurious vehicles, completely self-contained and sporting TV's and comfortable eating areas and couches. Still, I don't see myself sleeping in a bed on wheels. I'm also not going to start to play Animal Crossing. I've never been a video game player before, and don't intend to start now. Yes, I like critters, but the live kind: cute, adorable, anthropomorphic animal villagers are not on my list. I'm also probably not going to start doing jigsaw puzzles. Did them when I was a kid, and that was enough. And I am not getting a Peloton. I try and exercise everyday, but the only person I want to listen to when I'm doing it is, well, nobody.   

Yes, I have made bread. Yes, I have drunk more wine. Yes, I have had zoom reunions. Perhaps I would have done those more or less with or without a health emergency. Can't say the same about cleaning out my office, transferring some old slides or rearranging the basement. But a Winnebago? Just not happening. At least not yet.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford is amazed how much little stuff there is to do. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

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