I am trying to remember what it is like to actually sit down in a restaurant and have a lovely meal-- I try to remember what it was like going to Bed Bath and Beyond or going shopping for clothes--- I can't recall what it might be like not to wash my
hands 50 times a day- after picking up a package or the mail-- or just because --or washing my countertops after bringing food home---I can't remember what it is like to talk about something with my friends besides the virus: I can't remember what it was like not to be terrorized at the thought of contracting the virus, of not living in fear every single day that I could wind up on a ventilator, alone and dying ---Many days I never even get out of my robe- I can't imagine not wearing a mask when going anywhere where there are other people---I cannot imagine actually going to lunch with my friends and relaxing- no masks- just being light-hearted and catching up- I am not sure how long it will take all of those, those lucky enough to have survived this horror to go back to our pre-pandemic thought process and activities-- right now,
at this point, I can't imagine being normal.
You may or may not enjoy this article by the brilliant WaPo satirist Alexandra Petri
@ilovewings, but I ran across it today and thought of your post. It’s from April 16, 2020 and we were already thinking normal was but a fantasy. It may be behind a paywall, but here’s a sample.
You’re Wearing Pants? Tell me More.
By
Alexandra Petri
Columnist
April 16, 2020 at 1:13 p.m. PDT
So, in this fantasy, what are you wearing?
I am wearing clothes because I expect to see and be seen by other people. I have recently washed my body, and I slept a normal amount — neither too little nor too much — and all my dreams were just, like, normal dreams. I am wearing a shirt, but also, I am wearing pants, because I am going to go out and be seen by people in a place where they will know whether I am wearing pants or not.
Where are you going?
I am going to meet people in a public place. I am going to stand near those people.
How big is the distance between you and those people going to be?
It is going to be so small.
Three feet?
Less than three feet. One foot. No, six inches. I might get into an elevator with strangers.
<snip>
Does time feel like it has meaning for you?
Oh, yeah, it feels like it has so much meaning. Each hour of the day I am doing something different, and night and day feel very distinct.
<snip>
I go to a place where people are gathered closely indoors, and I drink alcohol out of a glass that was there before me and will be there after I am gone. It takes me a long time to get the attention of the person who is pouring the alcohol, because there are so many people there, all pressed together. Then I go to the bathroom, where there is a long line. Two people in the bathroom are having a conversation and everyone cannot help hearing it and joining in, and when we leave we all feel that we have formed a strong bond.
Then?
Get this: I get bored, and leave.
You leave?
I go home. I think, I will have a better time at home than here, with all these people. I get into a taxi, just a random taxi, and I sit in it, and I go home. When I get home, I wash my hands.
And?
And I touch my face. I touch my whole face. I itch my eyebrow and I also tug in vain at a black hair that has shown up in the center of my chin. I touch my face
everywhere.
Yeah?
Then I realize: I am out of toilet paper. But it doesn’t matter. I can always get more.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2020/04/16/youre-wearing-pants-tell-me-more/
