Tomorrow I’ll be working at my office instead of at home. I’ve been going into the office once a week or once every two weeks for the whole of quarantine. I go because my plants are there, and they need regular watering. Yes, I could do what so many of my friends have had to do and just let them go, replace them whenever we’re back on site. I can’t do it, though. Can’t bear to surrender them to the pandemic. I’d love to be able to bring them home, but they don’t much like my apartment, and at least half of them aren’t cat safe, so in the office they stay … which means that to the office I go.
Rather than being a chore or a headache, having to go out pleases me. It’s nice to have a reason to be out and about every week. And my day in the great outdoors gets expanded by including all my errands — the post office, the bank, the drugstore.
Even with my regular runs to work, however, going out remains so foreign that I have to talk myself through getting out the door. At first, I would remind myself to put on a mask. A few false starts later, and I was reminding myself to don a mask, check for my keys and wallet … and put on shoes. Yes, shoes. That’s how unused to the world I’ve become in all these days and weeks and months of seclusion. I should probably add “contacts” to the list, too. I’ve gone out too many times and had to turn around when confronted with the blur of my surroundings.
The list is a kind of chant, a kind of song. Mask, keys, wallet, contacts, shoes. Mask, keys, wallet, contacts, shoes. The most boring mantra in the history of mantras. I laugh at myself, but I need the crutch to keep myself from being half-dressed, fuzzy-sighted, and locked out!
It’s the 14th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Head on over to Two Writing Teachers
and see what the rest of this year’s slicers are up to!