I think we can all agree that so far 2020 has been annus horribilis. (Shout out to my high school Latin that I haven’t used in 40 years.)
If you’re one of those people that can find a silver lining in a pandemic then I salute you because I can’t. Sure, if pressed, I guess, I can come up with some positives.
I did learn things like my Internet has a lot in common with a teenager who wants to sleep all day and when forced to do some hardcore chores has a breakdown. This also educated me that while paying for high speed internet I’m getting more of a “high speed occasional, when I, sort of, feel like it which isn’t very often,” experience.
Yes, before you ask I aggressively reached out to my internet provider and I would rather get 100 nasal coronavirus swabs than have to live through that again. I finally had to go to the nuclear option which was to get my son to hard wire my home office.
This called for him to brandish a drill and lasso 40 feet of computer cable through our upstairs hallway which now resembles a mad scientist’s lair.
Maybe another silver lining is that I did have some self-discovery moments. About two months into the lock down I had an epiphany that I hate cooking dinner. In fact, I think I’ve always loathed cooking but tried to tell myself I didn’t by using excuses like, “I enjoy cooking and just hate cleaning the kitchen.”
But no, I would rather clean the kitchen than have to cook dinner. My least favorite three-word sentence now is, “What’s for dinner?”
What I do like is baking. Baking enriches the soul. Cooking dinner not so much. It’s a thankless, repetitive task.
Sisyphus instead of being forced to eternally push a boulder up a hill only to watch it roll back down should have been given the task of cooking dinner every single night during a pandemic. There’s a real Greek God worthy punishment.
I guess it’s also silver lining-ish that I now know what my husband and I will fight about in retirement. Having both of us home almost 24/7 has resulted in some extremely terse exchanges.
There’s been the melt down over someone (not me) putting condiments in the designated (by me) beverage section of the refrigerator. I can’t be wrong about this because who wants pickle relish and stone ground mustard mixed in with beverages? It’s just not done.
Then there was the sprinkler war. My husband (insert eye roll) doesn’t approve of how I water our yard. (Just to clarify for anyone that is confused right now. We do not have an in-ground irrigation system. This means every summer we’re the fools yanking hoses and sprinklers all over our yard.)
I prefer the sprinklers of my childhood. The ones that sway gently back and forth. My husband likes the lawn spike sprinkler. It’s the kind that shoots out across the yard making a rat-a-tat-tat sound.
There’s also the issue of sprinkler placement. Apparently, I’m lacking in “geographical sprinkler management skills.” This led me to tell my spouse just where he could put his rat-a-tat-tat sprinkler.
We also have fought over fabric softener usage (#TeamFabricSoftener)and utensil placement in the dishwasher. For the love of god, wooden spoons and spatulas go in the top compartment. Why is that so hard to understand?
Wooden spoon drama aside, I’m a little bit impressed with myself that I could find that many silver linings or maybe they’re more like Teflon linings. Good thoughts that won’t stick.
Snarky in the Suburbs 