We are on day 149 of 15 days to slow the spread.
Six months ago this week, we were sent to our homes to telework. I’ve not been in downtown Richmond, or what’s left of it, since sometime in mid-March.
But I’m happy to report that in that time, I’ve published the Great American Novel, become fluent in Spanish, lost forty pounds, become a piano virtuoso, and solved world hunger.
What? You’d believe it if you heard it on CNN.
Truth is the novel is in very incomplete draft form, the Duolingo owl sends me messages of disapproval, we won’t talk about the scales, and I’ve barely been near the piano.
Also, ask my wife, we can’t even solve hunger in this household.
I don’t know about you, but when this all started, we had no idea that we’d still be here by late summer.
I was just in a work meeting when one of the supervisors said “if we’re in COVID for another year.”
That is so much another post and I get all het up just thinking about it.
So Scarlet and I will just think about that tomorrow.
Or not. We apparently have time.
When I initially calculated how much “extra” time I would have, I thought about the fact that I was saving
about two and a half hours of the time normally spent getting ready and commuting to and from work.
And, of course I knew me well enough to know that I would use those times wisely.
We all know where this is going, so I’ll save us some time by just saying that none of this worked out the way I planned.
True story, as I was typing this, I told Pandora to switch to The Eagles.
First song up? Hotel California.
I have checked into house arrest, but I can never leave.
I mean, really, remember way back when we all thought it was ridiculous to think we’d still be under house arrest in June?
I’m still trying to sort out what I’ve learned during this time, if anything. I refuse to say that I’m “processing” it because I really do hate that term.
You process sausage. For just about everything else, get the facts and make a decision.
It’s rather obvious that I’ve not used these six months to learn patience.
I have a low tolerance for bovine scatology. And I say that having grown up in the hills.
I do think that I’ve had the chance to prioritize some things.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not just going around putting out fires, not even the ones started by the peaceful protesters.
Instead, I’ve been able to look at all of the projects and plans that I’ve thought for so long were oh so very important.
It’s been rather liberating to realize that the reason some projects were not getting done was not because I didn’t have the time, but that they weren’t important enough to make the time.
I think we’ve also learned that most of us are nicer in person than we are on social media. At least I hope we have.
I hope when we come out of this, we’ll be able to share handshakes and hugs. I’m personally okay if neckties never come back.
I don’t know when this will all end. I hope sooner rather than later, but we said that back in March.
Let’s just hope we can all take a look at what this experience has taught us.
What is really important.
Even more, who is really important.
On that one, don’t wait for our overlords to yell “olly olly oxen free.” Check on people now.
This is hard stuff. People are hurting. People are lonely. Some people have seen their lifetime dreams go down the drain.
Check on them. Do it today.
I realize that I’ve been given another gift. I can laugh my way through just about any absurdity.
Not everybody is able to snark their way through a pandemic.
Even I’m finding it harder and harder to laugh this off.
But you know I’m going to try.