We
have all gotten into routines during this pandemic/quarantine that vary wildly
from our usual daily routines. I’ve pretty much gotten used to my new routine
and am okay with it, but today I had a funny wake-up call about how much my
life has changed.
I haven’t
worn make-up in five months. Why waste the makeup and the effort when I was
going nowhere, wouldn’t see anyone but my family and a very few friends who, I
hope, love me as I am. But today I had a doctor’s appointment—routine checkup,
a little blood work, a look at my still-fat leg, nothing to worry about. But I
decided to wear makeup because I think the better you look, the more it makes a
subconscious impression on the doctor. If you look pale and wan, he’s going to
think you’re poorly.
So I
sat at my bathroom sink which doubles as a vanity—and I couldn’t remember what
to do! I put on a light bit of liquid foundation and then scrambled in the
drawer to find what was next. Powder! It turned out to be the dregs in a
pressed powder compact. Do I have another? I still don’t know. I figured out
blush, but then came to the part I think it important—eye makeup. My eyebrows
have never darkened with age—they’re still the pale blonde they were when I was
ten. Had I lost the technique for darkening them, so they were subtle, not
obvious? Could I still do mascara without smudging it all over my eyes?
In the
long run, I think I looked fairly respectable when I arrived at the doctor’s
office. Certainly, he said I would survive such things s the apparent mosquito
bite on my elbow and the arthritis in one of my fingers. And my leg is oh-so-gradually
going back to normal. But I imagine it will be a while before I try the makeup
thing again.
One
doctor’s appointment messes up my now-established routine for the day, and I
didn’t get much work done today. Mary came for happy hour, but it was just us
two. Jordan has pulled a muscle in her back and does not sit comfortably;
Prudence was busy with a final exam for an online graduate course she’s taking.
But Mary and I had a pleasant, low-key visit.
She is
one of those people who attract mosquitoes. While they rarely come near me,
they swarm around her. It’s a concern these days not just for the discomfort of
bites but because we’ve seen rising rates of West Nile virus in our county. So
Mary arrives with all kinds of paraphernalia—a long-sleeved shirt, a face fan
that drapes around her neck, bug spray (we have some but I think she likes hers
better—ours is organic, at my insistence), and a lantern that is supposed to
emit a vapor that drives the pesky critters way. She never got it to work quite
right and fiddled with it a lot.
Meantime,
Jordan had turned on our fan and the bug light which should discourage most
flies and mosquitoes. It worked well for me, but poor Mary was constantly
batting them away, particularly from her ankles. I told her I was grateful that
she attracted them all so that they wouldn’t bother me. She wasn’t particularly
amused.
Tomorrow
I’ll get back to serious work, writing lessons for the online course on
creating a chef. I think tomorrow’s topic will be “How ambitious is your chef?”
and I’ll explore the career paths open to chefs. Which means I’ll spend a lot
of time online researching. Not everyone can become Wolfgang Puck or Giada de
Laurentiis or Jacques Pepin.
Now I’ll
settle down with a book I’m to read for a competition. It’s about a rather grim
subjects—can’t say more—but I have a feeling it is well done, which means I’ll
have to read more of it than if I could dismiss it as sloppy and amateurish.
Today
was pleasant, but the temperature is to go up all week. Bummer. Glad Is Isaias
didn’t do more damage than it did, though several deaths are significant. And
pray for the people of Beirut, where an explosion has killed at least seventy
and injured many more. As someone I respect says, “There’s a world of hurt out
there.”
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