Here at Maison Galatz-Wellinghoff, we’ve been having a lot of discussions lately about “cheating.” Not the marital infidelity kind, thank goodness. Not even the nightly dinnertime vegan-carnivore dustup — “Come on, a little bite won’t kill you, you know.” But rather we’ve been debating how strictly to adhere to the shelter-in-place order.
Until very recently if gold stars were given out for shelter-in-place obedience, Handsome Hubby and I would win them. No contest.
Aside from daily walks and two Sunday car rides, HH has not left the house for one single outing. Until yesterday, I’d only gone out twice, once to pick up brisket from a friend’s house — yum — and the other time to pick up handmade masks from my quilting friend Rachelle — lovely AND practical.
That’s was it. Groceries and other needed supplies all arrived via Amazon with back-up support from our next-door neighbor, kind Kimberley.
Yes, we’ve been the poster family of sheltering-in-place. But like many people, we’re getting restless. Not go-to-the-beach, consequences-be-dammed restless, but restless never-the-less.
Yesterday, I ventured forth to meet my hairdresser (on the QT) to pick up my customized hair dye, latex gloves, applicator brush, and instructions — all in a brown paper bag no less like I was some sort of tippler grabbing booze for a midday nip!
Was picking up hair dye essential? After six weeks of fast-growing hair with roots sprouting faster than crabgrass on an acre of Kentucky bluegrass sod … you betcha, hair dye was essential or at least, essential-ish.
Today I ran out “for just a minute” to pick up a birthday cake for one of my kids. And as if that’s not wild and crazy enough, I’m actually going to see my kids — from a safe social distance of six feet (actually more) — for a birthday party. Party hats and masks included! Gloves optional. We’ll dine al fresco — food, cake, and presents placed strategically on the patio table in the center and we’ll take turns walking to the table to grab the food. (I guess these precautions give new meaning to the phrase “dine and dash.”)
Of course, being restless isn’t just about wanting to go out. It’s also about being less vigilant. I know I am. Yes, I’m still washing my hands like a wannabe surgeon. Yes, I’m still giving the stink eye to any passerby who dares to weave and bob near me when I’m out walking. But in subtle ways, I’m less wary than I should be. I open packages right away when they arrive without first wiping them down. And I’m not quite as fastidious about swabbing down doorknobs and counters as I was initially. I know I should be. I mean to be. But I’m exhausted. I cannot keep up the pace that non-stop vigilance mandates.
Happily, there is one thing I’m not exhausted about doing — giving thanks for the health and safety of my family and friends! For that, I have boundless energy. Yes, I’m a little bored. A little weary. Yes, I’m cheating a little bit here and there (and I’m not talking about M & Ms), but most of all, I am so grateful.
And that really is how it goes on Day 46. Have a good weekend. Please don’t go to the beach or anywhere crowded. Gold stars all round if you don’t!
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