Being in quarantine is reminding me of how my parents lived.
Without fanfare. Or computers.
Cooking. Three meals a day. Making a list and buying the food for a week or two at a time. Then , in the morning, making a decision on what you’re going to pull from the basement freezer.
Working outside in the garden. Weeding. Pulling brush. Family raking on Sundays.
Cleaning. Vacuuming, changing sheets, cleaning toilets, doing laundry, mopping.
And the daily ceremony of a whiskey sour in front of the CBS evening news at 5:30.
Well, that’s pretty much how I’m living now.
I remember saying to my husband when we first got together, that I wanted to plant the flowers….not manage someone else doing it.
Well…it’s taken a few years, but I’m doing it now.
Before all this happened, I rarely cooked. We went out all the time. Met friends. Or got take out. And had a movie night.
If I bought groceries it was on the day I needed them. Following a recipe book I stuffed in my cart.
We had Abolino who did all the outside gardening…maintenance….pruning…spring spruce up.
And Rosa. A godsend. I don’t even have a vacuum cleaner. Just a dust buster. Because when Rosa came, she brought everything with her.
But no longer. I’m in quarantine. I’m in charge.
Cleaning the toilets. I haven’t done that in forty years. Do they still have the stuff that turns the toilet blue? Can you order it on Amazon?
Changing the duvet cover. What a nightmare that is. And it’s all wrinkled now because the cleaner is closed. And I draw the line at ironing.
Mopping the mudroom. Don’t have a mop either. Squeegeeing the shower glass. Oye.
I sound spoiled. I am spoiled. But a lot of us are in this embarrassing, entitled boat.
So…here’s the crazy thing.
I’m sort of liking it.
Enjoying the routine. The simplicity of taking care of my own life.
The pleasure of frying the onions. Sweeping the porch. Pulling the weeds.
I’m home. I’m busy. I’m doing chores and completing them. It feels good.
Living more in the moment. Going where the day takes me.
My parents were satisfied with their lives. In fact, that might be the very thing that happiness comes down to.
They were satisfied with their lives.
Maybe it took a quarantine to slow things down enough for me to finally recognize it.