My buddy Tom called from New York and began reeling off his post-pandemic leisure schedule for the week: barbecue on Saturday, an old friend coming to town Sunday, his pool league on Monday. He paused momentarily.
“This whole ‘getting back to normal’ thing is exhausting,” he said.
I couldn’t agree more.
At a maskless neighborhood pool party last weekend, the first of its kind in over a year, friends ticked off activities and tasks that would be returning to their lives, sounding, at times, like they had just moved to a foreign country and were learning new cultures.
“I kind of liked not wearing makeup,” one neighbor bemoaned.
“Now I have to keep the house somewhat clean all the time,” another chimed in. “What if somebody drops by unexpectedly?”
“And look at all those people in the stands,” said a third, gesturing to a TV showing the Cubs/Cardinals game at Wrigley Field. The iconic park had just returned to full capacity, and every one of the 40,000 plus seats appeared occupied.
“Sweaty bodies on top of one another,” he continued. “Why can’t they at least block every other seat? Twenty thousand is still plenty of fans.”
“Were you always grossed out by the possibility of somebody else’s sweat in your vicinity?” I asked him.
“I guess I never really thought about it,” he admitted. “Now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Be Careful What You Wish For in a Pandemic World
For nearly 16 months, we yearned for wardrobes free of surgical garb, for a chance to eat food that wasn’t presented to us in “Grab n Go” Styrofoam containers and for opportunities to speak to our relatives without wondering if we needed more bandwidth. Please tell me that we are not having second thoughts about returning to what we all took for granted prior to March 2020.
Or are we?
I’ll admit, I was getting used to pulling into a “Drive Up and Go” space at my local grocery store, randomly scrolling my phone until a store employee emerged with a real cart containing all the items I had placed into an online cart. I was told to “pop the trunk” while the employee loaded all the bags into my car’s hatch, a service I particularly relished when temperatures hovered in the single digits.
If grocery curbside delivery remains, I suspect it will come with a fee. I’ll have to pony up or return to maneuvering a rickety piece of steel through the aisles, trying to look cool while the cashier scans items like fish oil tablets and eyeglass magnifiers.
Next to the grocery store is my longtime dry cleaner. I’m sure the owners are popping Champagne corks now that formal events requiring formal attire have returned. And while I sympathize with anyone suffering financial hardship due to the pandemic, I was enjoying the money I saved by only occasionally stopping by the dry cleaner, with orders that never included pants.
I’ll Keep My Mask, Thank You
I received a flu shot for the first time ever this year, only to read countless articles proclaiming flu cases nearly nonexistent thanks to everybody wearing masks and not sneezing and hacking on one another in public settings. Should I continue donning a mask and facing looks of “dude, it’s over” from passersby? What’s more uncomfortable? Feeling scorned a few times a day or shivering next winter under a pile of blankets and subsisting on chicken soup for, hopefully, not more than 72 hours.
Yes, we hated masks but permanently covering our mouths meant we were able to yawn in front of or swear at somebody and feel totally incognito while doing either.
Do we remember what guilt feels like and are we ready to experience it again when we binge-watch an entire Netflix series in one sitting? Are we prepared to listen to our co-workers drone on incessantly when we return to face-to-face company meetings in conference rooms that do not contain “mute” buttons? Do we have the discipline to set our morning alarms half an hour earlier so we can prepare school lunches? Do we even remember HOW to prepare school lunches?
Excuse me, but this jumble of questions is necessitating a change of scenery. I think I’ll step away from my computer and go to a restaurant or park tonight because I can.
On second thought, maybe I’ll just stay home.
Old habits die hard.
