Remarkable. 250 days -- a round number, a record, a sign of the times. And counting.
Here's what I'm thinking now about living the life of a recluse: I am super grateful. Grateful that this period of isolation is likely to end by spring. That quite likely there wont be another 250 days where Ed and I are alone and apart from the rest of humanity. And hey, how about this -- it could well have been 2500 more if science hadn't stepped up with promising vaccination results. In other words, if you're still COVID free, you should be telling yourself -- I am lucky. And in a few months this will be over.
And who wants to go out and party in the winter months anyway? In the cold season, you sleep. Skip the dinner invitation and pull a quilt to your chin. Give yourself permission to do nothing much.
If you're retired, here's what a do nothing much day looks like:
If you have chickens, chip away the ice in their water dish and fill the bowl with warm water. Chickens love warm water in the winter. Then, take a walk outside and admire the bare trees. What, you don't think bare trees are especially beautiful? Well, take another look. (Sometimes beauty is tough to recognize at first glance.)
Let's talk about breakfast next. A do nothing day has to have an easy breakfast, but something more than tea and toast, please. I mean, it's good to make it last. If you can cajole anyone in your household to join you for this meal, you can really drag it out!
A do nothing day is the kind of day where you can spend a lot of time just listening to the wind outside. (And oh, is it windy out there today!) You tell yourself you should be planting garlic bulbs (we have a number we want to plant still this fall -- it grows really well here) and then you don't do it at all, because, well, planting requires thought and a modest amount of effort.
Still, sitting on a couch all day is a no no, so Ed and I do go out for a walk. Where to -- he asks. I definitely don't want to give it much thought so I say the obvious -- our local county park. Same trail? Same trail.
Same bare trees.
(windy!)
If your step count is low after all this, you can always pace your living room in the late afternoon, telling yourself how lucky you are not to have to go out anywhere tonight! I mean, all that wind!
Now, my "do nothing" does not always coincide with a "nothing's happening" day for Ed. Today, for example he decides to install a bidet onto the one toilet in the farmhouse. You know what that is, right? Water squirts in the appropriate places. You need no toilet paper, ever. This appeals to Ed who hates to waste anything, including paper, especially since even the thinnest squares inevitably fill up the septic system. So he wants us to try the bidet.
People rave about it! Cleanest job ever!
That was a selling point to him as well. I agreed. Of course, I should have known he would pick the cheapest model on the market. $27, delivered.
It got great reviews! They say if you turn it up full power, you get a blast that cleans your insides! Don't worry, I did not set it on full power.
The thing is, Ed was not willing to spend a whole lot more and do a complicated installation just so you could have warm water hitting your derrier. You know, like they have in Japan (where the toilet seats are often heated as well; they really treat your bathroom time royally in that country). He warns me -- it's a little bit of a shock the first time!
I'll say! A strong cold spray of water! You should have installed this in the summer. I may have appreciated it then.
You'll get used to it! And if not, well, I did buy enough toilet paper to get us through more farmhouse isolation days.
On a do nothing evening, you reheat leftovers. You think about all the great meals you've cooked in the past and you smile to yourself -- cooking will always be in your blood. You don't have to prove yourself every single day anymore. Leftovers are more than just fine.
I give passing thought to the book I was supposed to finish writing this fall, to the online daily French lessons I've stopped taking (last one -- 251 days ago!), to the big meal I normally cook on the last Thursday of November. And I do nothing about any of it.
Now, on the one hand, you can say -- sounds like a pretty nice day to me! But part of you I am sure is thinking -- it will be sooo much better here on Ocean once she returns to doing something with her days! And if you're in that camp, well then, aren't you glad I likely wont have another 250 days of doing nothing before me? Yes, we are lucky. If those of us who do not work can only keep on doing nothing for a while longer, we'll get out of this mess and rejoin a life of doing grand stuff once again.
