March 9, 2022
Ah, March! The last month of
winter has finally arrived. And with this new month, it seems that our
government here in Ontario is beginning to let go of every single pandemic restriction
that has been in place for the last couple of years. We no longer are required
show proof of our vaccination status when we go into restaurants, theaters, stores,
or any other basic businesses. There are no longer any seating limits, either.
And by the end of this month,
apparently, they’ll be lifting the mask mandate for most indoor activities and
venues.
Of course, I am skeptical. In
the interests of complete transparency, I will tell you that this past weekend,
I did go to Walmart and afterward, David and I went to our favorite seafood
restaurant for lunch. That excursion was a reaction to the latest concern that
has been brought to my attention.
I’ve been told by those who
live with me that I need to get out more. They presented quite the united
front. Both husband and daughter absolutely agree on this. Me, not so much. But
I decided I would cooperate to a certain extent. I have resumed the responsibility
for grocery shopping, and I will go out occasionally beyond that, where there
is a reason to do so.
But when they drop the mask
mandate at the end of this month? Well, there’s a red line, at least for now. I
plan to keep using my masks, thank you very much. In fact, when we didn’t know
for certain that this pandemic would last as long as it has so far, (and here please
understand that Covid is not yet over), David and I had discussed
keeping a supply of masks on hand to wear for when we got colds, in the future.
I think it’s a good idea to do that just as a matter of courtesy.
Therefore, I will be wearing a
mask for the foreseeable future when I go out and about amongst the general
public.
I’m pleased that my daughter
is in agreement with my stance on the masks, so that’s a good thing. I am also
gratified that the Long-Term Care homes in this province are not letting go
their protocols at this time, either.
As to the wishes of my family,
that I turn away from my hermit ways, I would love someone to tell me this:
what difference does it make to anyone if I choose not to be a social
butterfly? Why would I go out for no particular reason at all? Y’all have been
reading my essays for some time now. Does that sound like something I would
have done, ever? Of course not.
Right now, at this moment as I
write these words, a lot of the ice that had been solid around our house has
begun to melt. I walk with a cane, and winter is a very tricky time for me outside
and has been for years. That’s why I have a claw on the end of my cane that I
can engage when I go out. It gets affixed to my stick in late fall, once the
snow and ice show up, and comes off in the spring once I’m sure it won’t be
needed any longer.
Also, since every step I take is
painful, it is a lot of work for me to simply go out.
My two housemates say they
would be happy if I just went for a drive a few times a week. I won’t use the
cost of gas as a consideration against this plan, although that brings up an
interesting possible codicil to this declaration that they both came up with
last week.
A small digression here: The
cost of gasoline is at its highest here, ever. I was out yesterday and saw the
price per litre of regular gas is 1.801. There are 3.75 Canadian litres in a U.
S. gallon. That means the price we are paying per gallon is: 1.801 x 3.75 =
6.75.
Now, back to that “possible
codicil” that I mentioned. It was last week that they both told me I really
need to get out more. Last week, I went out on Saturday and Sunday, and I even
went out yesterday, too. Three times out over four days! I seized hold of this “codicil”
they inadvertently handed me last night at the supper table, and pardon the
pun, I took it for a ride.
Over supper last night, our
daughter was complaining about how much it costs to fill her new car’s gas tank,
and that over the course of her work week it needs to be filled twice. Her
former car, the one I’m now driving, is more than twice as economical to drive—it
had only required a single tank of gas for the week. This is something she
realized shortly after she bought her new car, but the current state of the cost
of gas has put the situation in a whole new light for her. I gave it a moment
after she voiced her complaint, and then I made my conversational gambit:
Me: You should perhaps take the
Ford Escape during the day.
Daughter: I was thinking that
myself, and I think I will.
Me: You’ll have to show me how
to drive your new car, of course. (She has a fob but no key, a push button to
start the car, and a dial for the gears. And then there’s the camera/display
stuff.)
Husband: No! We’ll just stay
home, and if you need the car for an appointment, then she’ll take the Edge that
day and leave you the Escape.
Me: Okay.
And now, friends, I am just
waiting to see how long it takes for them to admit that they’ve completely abandoned
their “Mom must get out more” campaign.
That could happen. What’s less
likely to occur is an admission on their part that their original premise—that I’d
slipped a cog and was clinging to home with a crazy old-woman’s paranoia—was just
a tad off base. I’m a homebody, always have been. I am happiest right here. Cue
the music to the chorus, “Be it ever so humble/There’s no place like home”.
But I do thank them ever so
much for their revolving concerns, and for helping me to keep my mind sharp,
countering them.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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