Wednesday, November 24, 2021

Thanksgiving Eve


My life has changed in the last year and a half. I'm not a fan of the nine-to-five, but I will say that having a schedule isn't necessarily a bad thing. I retired in June of 2020 after spending three scary months telecommuting. The telecommuting wasn't scary -- in fact, I enjoyed it -- but the outside world was scary. I recall being afraid I would run into another human on my morning walk, and -- gasp! -- what if I caught Covid from them?? We weren't even calling it Covid then. It was "corona virus", or the shorthand "corona". Covid elbowed its way into our vernacular sometime in the summer. 

I retired in June of that year, sans a going-away party, because, you know, we weren't allowed to interact with other humans. I dutifully ordered our groceries online and dealt with some surprise items -- like two tomatoes magically becoming two dozen tomatoes. I even had liquor delivered. I went stir crazy, only ever interacting with my PC. I think it was September before I ventured out to get my hair cut, and that in itself was a drama -- wait outside -- not too close to any other loiterers -- lather up with the supplied sanitizer, complete a Covid questionnaire, have my temperature read, adjust my mask, and finally settle into a chair six feet away from the other customers. It was an existence of pure fear until my husband and I at last secured our vax appointments in April of this year.

I didn't see my grandchildren until July.

So now I've settled into my new routine, which consists of "What day can we go out and get groceries?" We don't go anywhere except the supermarket, the convenience store, the liquor store (now), and fast food drive-thru's. I can't even imagine eating a meal inside a restaurant. I look forward to seeing the friendly cart-wiper at Target, though I don't even know her name, but she's nice and she knows us now. She's my new best friend.

Friends. I miss seeing them, gossiping with them. Texts have their limitations. My friendships are slipping away. It might have happened with or without Covid, but at least we might have been able to share an occasional lunch and catch up.

I guess I'm lucky in that I'm an introvert. I don't mind sharing my life with my computer. I have the news streaming while I pursue my directionless hobbies. But, in actuality, the days are long. Thus, my sentimentality for schedules. 

Of course, everything isn't dreary. Though we lost both of our babies during the height of the pandemic, we did adopt a new baby -- a kitten we call Sasha -- in March. She's no Ragdoll, believe me. I was used to my Bob, who basically did his own thing (sleep) most of the day. Of course, he was eighteen years old. Sasha is go-go-go, always searching out new adventures. Wondering why we're asleep at night when the whole world is there for us to explore. She often finds herself trapped behind closed closet doors and requires rescue, but she takes it in stride, viewing her temporary incarceration as an opportunity to analyze new phenomena. 

So Sasha makes my list of things I'm thankful for. 

I'm, of course, thankful for my grandchildren, Asher and Ollie, who are now two and have revealed their quirky personalities. I'm not one to brag, but I do have the smartest grandsons in the known world.

I'm thankful Dementia Joe hasn't completely depleted our checking account yet and we can still pay our bills. (And I'm mostly thankful that we don't have to make a twenty mile round trip every day, or I'd be looking for a second job.)

I'm, in fact, one of the lucky ones. I have a little tiny nest egg, I can manage to cover our monthly expenses, and I have my wonderful husband and Sasha. 

I guess Thanksgiving isn't so bad.


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