Covid has been a part of our lives for almost three years now. It doesn’t scare me as much as it did in 2020 but I feel like I’m always on high alert for impending doom. It’s also changed me in ways that I wouldn’t have anticipated.
Certainly, I think we’ve all taken hand washing to new heights and formed meaningful relationships with bleach and disinfectants but the change I’m talking about is more personal. Covid gave me permission to be what Oprah would call my “authentic self.”
Before the coronavirus I was a closeted home body. I enjoyed being home but didn’t like to share that information with too many people. I have, in fact, been a homebody all my life. Even as a young adult going out to a bar or a club was my version of hell. For me it was forced fun. It’s not that I’m not social. I enjoy the company of other people but not all the time. I think the new trendy term for this is introverted extrovert.
When Covid hit and the whole world was in lockdown, having to stay home definitely played to my strengths. Then when the restrictions were slowly lifted and people’s social lives resumed, some with a vengeance, mine did not.
The pandemic made me realize how precious and precarious time is and that helped me make the decision to no longer engage in social activities that I had zero interest in but had always felt like I “needed to go.”
I’m now unashamed that my idea of a perfect evening is snuggling on the couch with my husband and pets reading or watching “Masterpiece Mystery” on PBS. Yes, I’m that boring and now I don’t care who knows it. Also, what’s wrong with enjoying being home? It’s where all the things you love are.
This change has been immensely freeing, but it’s also had a trickle-down effect. My friendships are now different, and I think that’s because I’m more selfish with my time. I’m now content to surround myself with fewer people and I no longer feel guilty about being the type of person who truly enjoys their own company.
I’ve received some negative reactions to this “change.” My favorite was that I “needed to get out more before I got any older and couldn’t get out.”
That one made me laugh. It’s not like I’m not out and about or not traveling. I am doing all of those things but none of it is fueled by the desire to be in constant motion. I used to buy into the premise that a jammed packed calendar meant success. To continually forgo events or invitations was, to me, social kryptonite.
Never mind that while at most of these occasions I was longing to be home in my extra-large Old Navy flannel pajamas. It’s not that these events weren’t fantastic, it’s just that they weren’t my idea of fun. (Honestly on some level I blame Spanx. Getting your body imprisoned in a spandex vice for hours really cuts down on the enjoyment quotient for any outing. Then add in wearing stilettos and you’ve created a high entertainment threshold that any event has to clear to make it worth the pain and suffering.)
So, if anyone is looking for me you’ll know where to find me – at home being very happy about being incredibly boring.
(P.S. The pillow is from furbishstudio.com This isn’t a sponsored post. I just ❤️ their stuff.)
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Hey there, you know what’s not boring? The correct answer is my latest book – FOUR SEASONS of SNARKY where crazy is always in season, especially when you live in the burbs.
Epic yard wars (Because it’s always a good day when you call tell the HOA to suck it.), a PTA take down (Spoiler alert – lice is a great way to clear a room), bizarre goings on at a Parents Day Out program, Little League intrigue (Apparently, you don’t know real power until you become “Commissioner” of your local Little League.), a tale of Vacation Bible School taking an, ahem, rather unfortunate turn, how to get kicked out of the Junior League (It was harder than you might think), a science fair stalker and turning Christmas inflatables into a revenge plot
All this and more are in Four Seasons of Snarky featuring some of the greatest hits from Snarky in the Suburbs. Where schemes, payback, and retribution scenarios all tell the tale of a woman who will admit she might be crazy, but you know in a good way.
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Snarky in the Suburbs 