A Year Later

It's hard to believe a year has gone by since the day I packed up my laptop and left the office, exchanging working at a desk in business attire to working at my dining room table in t-shirts and leggings.  At the time it happened I thought the situation was temporary.  I thought I would be back in the office before summer.  After a month of lockdown, I was going stir crazy, wishing for my pre-quarantine life.  I wasn't expecting it to go on much longer, but I hated the uncertainty of not knowing exactly when it would end.  

I look back on that now and try not to be angry with myself for being a whiner.  I could have had it much worse.  I had access to takeout restaurants, parks, stores that allowed socially-distanced shopping, and the internet.  I don't have children, so I didn't have to worry about homeschooling.  The company I work for managed to adapt to the changing needs of our clients, so it stayed in business and thrived while many of our competitors had to make massive job cuts.  While my life didn't go back to where it was pre-pandemic, I was able to go horseback riding in May and dance again in August.  I went on vacation to Chincoteague in July, and I had a good time despite having to make many adjustments to how I usually vacation.  I was even able to make it to the garden center and plant flowers and herbs on my balcony again.

I know I have it better than many, but that doesn't mean I don't miss my old life.  I never thought I would miss being in the city and being with the annoying guys in my office, but I do miss it.  I miss the park where I would go to read at lunch.  I missed going to the Bryant Park Holiday Market in December.  I missed having daily interactions with multiple people, whether it was coworkers or the baristas in the coffee shop. I missed going to the theater.  I missed feeling the hatred of NYC that being in NYC brings me. The pandemic erased eight years of a predictable routine and replaced it one that was as boring as the office, but was frighteningly uncertain.  

I know many people thought a quarantine was a time for quiet reflection and a way to find new ways to find joy at home (I wonder what it's like to be an introvert).  I felt some of that in the beginning.  I was sure I would read more books and do daily yoga.  I expected to keep up with meditation and improve my baking skills.  I thought I would practice my singing and work with some online backup tracks to keep my voice in shape and maybe record some videos to share online as a substitute for performing.  I hoped to strongarm Kevin into getting out the guitar (or ukulele) and work on some duets with me.

My expectations didn't always meet reality.  I talked about this back in 2020, but almost a year later, not much as changed.

I think I read fewer books in the past year than I have read in years.  In the past reading was something I always had to make time for.  I loved having a precious few minutes or half hour with a book.  I read before bed.  I read on the train.  I read at breakfast.  I read in the park at lunchtime.  Now that I have long hours stretching ahead of me that would allow me to read as much as I want, I find it hard to motivate myself to pick up a book.  I suppose part of that is I also haven't been reading many engrossing books.  But is it the fault of the books, or my lack of ability to focus on them?

In the beginning of 2020 I wanted to reduce my Facebook time.  I deactivated my Facebook in January so I wouldn't be distracted from more important things (like books) by checking who responded to my recent posts every hour.  I deleted my Facebook entirely in 2018 because I realized I had grown addicted to that validation.  My reason for not deleting the account last year was I could use it to notify friends and family of new blog posts, so I would reactivate when I published a new post.  Once I was in lockdown, I needed my Facebook more than ever.  It was my only connection to people.  It was better to be addicted to validation than to feel isolated from human contact.

I didn't write too many new blog posts either.  This blog didn't see a huge uptick in activity and neither did my food blog.  I was supposed to be doing more cooking, which one would think would trigger more new recipe posts.

My home was supposed to be the cleanest it has ever been.  I was home enough to keep on top of chores.  I do occasionally have fits of cleanliness that cause me to scrub every corner, but I am as likely to let chores go for weeks at a time.  Working from home at my dining room table has put a permanent pile of clutter on full display.  

The feeling of isolation and being trapped, the feeling that I should do more indoor activities, paralyzed me more than it motivated me.  I always felt like I had all the time in the world to do those activities the experts call self-care, but I preferred to sit on my butt and share stupid memes online.

I also have more time to stare the at the walls and see how much work needs to be done on my apartment.  The walls are in desperate need of painting and have been for a few years.  I also notice our hardwood floors need to be sanded and refinished.  I would like to have our kitchen cabinets refaced.  The upholstery on the living room couch is now tired looking and needs to be redone.  I want to replace the rug as well.  (I wanted to replace that rug the last time we reupholstered the couch because the rug doesn't match the upholstery very well.)  I have lived in this condo for twenty years and it shows.  The place needs regular updates to stay fresh looking.  I am likely to live here at least another twenty years and I want to live in a place that makes me feel happy and calm and not a place that makes me feel like I am living in a home that is falling down around my ears.  I might notice these issues less if I weren't home all the time.

Despite the feelings of inertia and sloth, I have to remind myself that I shouldn't be too hard on myself and I did have a few small accomplishments.  I learned to adjust in many ways.  I need to remember that even though my life wasn't difficult compared to so many others, I still went through a radical change in my routines.  I came through it, despite it is lasting longer than I ever believed it would.  I will continue to adjust knowing the world won't return to its normal state simply because I want it to.

Maybe I didn't come up with dozens of new recipes to post to the food blog, but I did more baking during the pandemic than I have done in years due to having more time.  I baked treats I never baked before.  I made the sticky bun recipe from laminated brioche dough I was eager to try, but put off for at least a decade.  I made chocolate babka.  I even made homemade croissants.  For the first few weeks of lockdown, when I was stuck at home all weekend, I would cook elaborate breakfasts for Kevin and me.  A bountiful weekend brunch is something we always have to deny ourselves because we have to be out and on the road early on weekends.  Once we had the time at home  I dusted off my waffle iron and tested my creativity with scones.

I wasn't able to take the grand vacation I wanted to take to celebrate my 50th birthday, but I at least went to Chincoteague.  Going there meant making some adjustments.  I had to deal with intermittent restaurant closures (meaning there were limited choices for lunch and dinner most days).  There was no Pony Swim (the main reason I go every summer).  I had to quarantine when I came home (and do so without power after a major storm took out power lines in my town).  It was worth it to spend a few days enjoying the beach and nature.  I have plans to return this summer.  Will I be able to wander around town freely with no mask? Will there be a real Pony Swim and not only an online auction? That is not guarantee, but I still plan to go and make the most of it.

I missed theater and performing.  That was one of the hardest adjustments I had to make.  Theater people are resourceful and found creative ways to provide performance space online. Thanks to the magic of Zoom, I found ways to perform again.  Once I decided to get involved with virtual theater, I was faced with new and interesting creative challenges.  Acting is a new experience when one has to record lines in complete isolation.  I recorded two plays sitting by myself on the floor of my bedroom closet (no echoes or distracting noises this way).  I had to insert myself on the spot in a scene of an online playreading with little prior preparation.  None of this is a substitute for live rehearsals and the camaraderie of other actors, but it helps me grow as an actor.

Is it too optimistic to make plans for a future with no pandemic?  I have to admit that's one of the ways I deal with the ever-present ennui.  Making plans for things that may or may not happen in the future is one way to occupy the empty hours.  

In the short term it's possible I might see my family again.  My assorted parental units have all had at least one of their vaccines.  Kevin is scheduled for his first one.  I don't know if spending Easter together will be possible, but I am planning Easter brunch just in case.  (I have had a bug up my butt for the past year or two to do a biscuit bar.)  If Easter can't happen, I have dinner party ideas ready to go for any time in the future when I can have people over (if you're reading this, I hope you will attend one of my dinner parties at some point).  I know the turkey recipe I want to make for Thanksgiving and have some ideas for Christmas dinner.  

In the long term I am making plans for the day I can travel again.  I couldn't gift myself with a vacation when I hit my fiftieth birthday.  Kevin and I will not be taking some elaborate trip for our twentieth anniversary this year.  The pandemic taught me "landmarks" are nothing more than numbers and there is no reason why one should only fulfill one's travel dreams only at five-year intervals.  We will travel when we can travel (and the ability to travel is a reason for celebration itself).

Maybe the world won't be ready for real travel in 2022, or maybe I won't have the money, or maybe I will have other commitments.  I have decided to assume I can do it.  I enjoy spending some of these long hours planning a ten-day trip to Scotland in the spring of 2022.  I know what cities I want to stay in (Inverness and Edinburgh), what the best flights to take are, what hotels I will stay in, what landmarks I want to visit, what tours I want to take, and even some of the restaurants I want to try.  I calculated how much this will likely cost me so I know how much money I need to put away to pay for it (I am budgeting as if I am paying for the whole thing myself, but I am sure Kevin will be willing to help if he plans to come with me😀)  Sometimes I even imagine that I will make it to the French canal barge cruise I dream of taking one day.  

It's possible I am setting myself up for disappointment by believing I can make these things happen (and I don't handle disappointment well) but I tell myself I am living in the moment and enjoying the entertainment the planning process brings me.  It's better than assuming I will never go anywhere again. 

In April of last year I had no idea how long the pandemic would continue, but I expected it to last only another month or two (so much for the accuracy of my company's expert epidemiologists).  I found the idea of two more months of isolation nearly intolerable.  I'm glad nobody had a crystal ball to predict I would still be wearing a mask outside the house almost a year later.  I'm not sure I could stand it.  I look back on those days now and I can take a little pride in the fact that I adjusted and moved on and accomplished a few items on the to-do list.  It reminds me of how far I have come and that I endured it all and I know I can keep enduring it all.

I wonder how I will feel when I read this post a year from now, or even six months from now.  Will I look back on this as a bygone chapter in history?   Will I be spending my free time doing un-masked, un-socially-distanced activities?  Will I be grateful I won't have a way to warn my current self to expect more of the same?  The strange thing is I almost like that uncertainty.  Once life goes back to "normal" I will have to deal with the parts of normal I don't enjoy (like getting up earlier to commute to work and skipping the joy of a leisurely breakfast or dealing with the crowds and stink of NYC or putting up with my obnoxious coworkers).  I like believing the end of the pandemic will be all positive.  It won't be.

Then again, the virus may keep mutating and kill most of us, leaving the survivors to endure a true-life version of The Stand.   Maybe the vaccine will turn us all into zombies in a few months.  It's possible an asteroid will crash into the Earth next week and it will render all of this moot.  

Stay tuned...