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Imagine a Spa Day.

Last night in the shower I sang these words to the tune of John Lennon’s “Imagine". Apologies to John. 

Imagine there’s no virus/
It isn’t hard to do./ 
Lots of san-i-tizer/
And toilet paper, too./ 
Imagine all the people/
Going out to eeeat/
E-E-EEE 
. . . 
Everyone is a little tense now. As I said before, we are collectively experiencing a traumatic event; no one is calibrated, no one is really secure, and here we are trying to navigate with no real leaders because they are also traumatized. When 9/11 happened, the whole country changed. But it was different because most people's lives were not directly affected. It’s not like the pillars of smoke were in every town. But this virus is in every town. Everywhere. What a beautifully unifying thing. 

Fr and I are having stupid arguments. He’s working from home, and I’m sure that’s claustrophobic. I’m mostly working from home, but only for about half the day. So I take walks, go to the store when we need anything (which we don’t), write, text my mom, walk some more, read the news, clean . . . I don’t know which is worse: his claustrophobic day, or my listless one. 

This morning we took a loaf of banana bread to Rich. I hung the bag on the door knob and Fr said it wouldn’t stay. I said yes, it would. He said no. I smiled like a brat, put the bag on the door knob, and walked away. Fr went back and moved the bag so it wouldn’t fall. This is a dumb thing to fight about. I think I’m right, but that’s not the point. 

After that situation we got our morning drinks, then Fr went home and I went to the store. I went to get “spa stuff" and came home with my intended items PLUS 4 lbs of butter because butter was $1.99/pound and I’m not going to NOT buy that. It will go in the freezer and enable my baking hobby for the next few months.

A few teenage girls were standing much too close to me in the check-out line, chattering away and open-mouth breathing like they haven't heard we're in the midst of a pandemic. Either that, or they fancy themselves invincible and special and rules don’t apply to them. This is age appropriate. I should have compassion since I used to be a teenager (once as a teenager I rode an escalator in Macy’s singing a song while wearing rolled denim shorts, a floral body suit, beige knee highs and black clogs. AND a choker.), but I’m not that good. I wanted them to breathe somewhere else, or not at all. I distanced myself until finally I had removed myself from the line entirely and had to go to the back. This was fine with me. I used the extra time in line to construct a “Personal Space Contraption" in my head. A large hoop with a 6 foot radius that I will attach to suspenders and wear every time I must go out. 

Anyway, I bought spa stuff so I could fix my armpit situation. Armpit hair is normal for human adults like myself, and while I believe that bush is beautiful, I do not enjoy armpit hair. The last time I waxed was January, and I wasn’t waxable again until last week and then the salons closed. So I bought Nair wax strips. Anyone who likes to be smooth is foolish for paying $38 to have someone else pull their pit hair. The box came with 40 strips (equivalent to 20 armpit waxes) for $9.76. That’s .48 cents per wax. It took less time and hurt less than a salon wax. Plus I got to look at the hair roots up close when I finished, and that’s always interesting and fun. 
The hair pattern on the wax strip looked like a framed leaf. I took a picture. I want to post it here but I'm afraid I'm not yet so liberated, or cruel. 
...
I walked out of the room and Fr was making dinner.
“How were your chambers?”
"I fixed my armpit situation."
He asked to see the wax strips.  
"REALLY?!" I quickly procured the strip and showed Fr my handiwork, like a toddler proudly pointing to her poop in the toilet.
"I really wish I hadn’t seen that." 
"LOOK AT THE ROOTS!"
"I see."
"I worked today. I also got 4 pounds of butter."
"Good." 
. . . 

Tonight on Step By Step, Cody cures Karen’s hickey and Marc is addicted to video games. JT is in one scene which I think greatly improved the show. Marc is my favorite character. 

I’m not feeling inspired today. 

Comments

  1. DeancatMarch 25, 2020 at 8:17 AM

    I feel to be a voyeur, your personal revelations, overrunning my brain space.

    ReplyDelete

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