During these long and sometimes weary days of isolation, one might get the impression they are about to go insane. But here is a thought – who has ever heard of the voice of insanity raising its ugly head and shouting out loud – “Let me out of here!” Keep that thought – I’ll come back to it later.
What does one do during these long periods of self-isolation? Well, one can do various things to occupy one’s mind, some of which may or may not include physical labor. Having moved quite recently, we – in our self-isolation – have become rather chummy with cardboard boxes. Boxes of all sizes. And the contents of same add to our enjoyment. Read on to see what I mean.
The fun part is opening the box to see what weird combination of “stuff” the packers put into these boxes. Now one might think that being considered a “professional packer” these intelligent individuals would realize that if packing frying pans or saucepans, upon arrival at the new destination, the individuals emptying the boxes would expect to have the lids to these pans. You know where I am going with this already – don’t you? Yup, we are in our new digs a month now and there are still some pans (frying or sauce) that are waiting patiently to be matched up with the lids. Just one of the many wonderous things that keep us entertained during this period of self-isolation. While we have emptied many of the boxes deposited in our house, my educated guess is that the lids may be hid deep down inside one of the many boxes that made their way to our storage locker.
And then there is the realization that several of the rooms that seemed so bright and cheerful when we first looked at the home, do not have sufficient lighting. Some may say that as we age, our hearing goes first, but that is not true for all octogenarians. For some of us, our eyes tend to go first.
Oh, we can still see quite well, it is just that we prefer going into a room without having to carry a torch (you know, one of the most early and most primitive ways of illumination). For those of you not familiar with your history, a torch is a rod-like piece of wood with the rag wrapped around one end, which is dipped in a flammable substance that you set fire to before entering the darkness. Okay, so I exaggerate, the rooms aren’t that dark but don’t people know that there are 75 and 100 watt bulbs or even 60 Watt LED lights.
What else can I ramble on about here – oh, I know, the numerous “Honey-dos” that tend to crop up after moving into new digs. Now I personally do not have anything bad to say about “Honey-Dos”. But let’s face it, you know us guys – if we see a rack of some sort holding utensils, we think cool – one less job I have to concern myself with. But our wives see it differently. You know where I am going with this, don’t you guys? She looks at it and immediately says – but it (the rack) is on the wrong side of the room or it should be under that cabinet over there as it would be more accessible.
So, being the faithful companion I am, (no – I am not talking about The Lone Ranger and Tonto here), I set out to find my trusty electric drill, screwdriver, and after going through three small jars of thumbtacks, pushpins, screws, hooks, twisters, etc. find just the right size screws needed and set about to change positions of the infamous rack. Easy peasy – right?
Noooo! Here comes the fun part. Why is it that at our age, the task we set out to do, not only takes us three or four times the amount of time a younger fella might take to do – but it also requires us to become a contortionist in order to position ourselves just right so that we can screw in two screws. And why is it that usually the spot we are placing this rack requires a left-handed person versus a right-handed person. This, so-called simple job, by the way causes us to position ourselves in such a weird position that once the rack is attached and we free ourselves from the entanglement we placed ourselves in, we will require months of chiropractic therapy. Assuming that is, that our knees will allow us to stand up once the rack has been hung because this rack had to be fastened under the sink. Oh, if only I were a drinking man, what I wouldn’t do for a shot of Jack Daniels. Question is – do I get it before attempting to stand up, or while still bent up like a pretzel.
Okay, I’ve rambled on quite a bit with respect this post. Let me end by saying this: Remember earlier I made mention regarding the voice of insanity raising its ugly head and shouting out loud – “Let me out of here!” Well, during these times of self-isolation, and what I see as a long road to the time we will be able to associate with others, thus creating more wonderful “honey-do” type jobs, I would like to think that instead of that voice saying “Let me out of here!”, in its own way, that quiet voice of insanity, (the one that rests in the back of our minds waiting for the end of our slow boring day) after seeing what I just went through to hang a simple utensil rack, may just be dying to whisper softly to me: “There may be room in here for one more loony tune! Care to join me?”
Until next time – stay safe!