Sheltering through this biological
storm shifts our days into an unexpectedly slower pace. My husband, who works
remotely, sets the alarm for 6:30 to give him time to shuffle into the kitchen
for a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and to check his email. He commented
yesterday that he probably needs to nudge the alarm to an even later start.
Always an early riser, last week I allowed myself to sleep until nine-ish
before setting my daily agenda, which consisted of reading and yard work followed
by a movie or a couple episodes of a random TV show. Because I felt this sluggish
start set the tone of my day too move too slowly, this week I’m matching my
husband’s hours.
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| Live Oak leaves abound! |
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| Yard work keeps me busy |
My husband’s company put employees
onto remote work on March 12th. As my spring break drew to an end, I
decided not to return to work. My
Facebook feed displayed vacationing friends, and as I’d been following COVID-19
and its progress since the beginning of January, I knew returning to work as a
substitute teacher after co-workers and students had traveled throughout the US
was stupid. The minimum wage pay wouldn’t come near to covering any medical
expenses of a prolonged ICU stay. Of course, the school district decided to
extend the break for another week. That turned into several more weeks closed.
Finally, our governor declared the schools cannot open prior to May 4th.
As I have worked at some kind of job
since I was 16, this unanticipated break forces me to reassess why I work so
many days. Originally, grief drove me to fill my days while some financial
draws added to my need to work. However, my part-time work morphed into working
five days a week and lasted for seven years! Then this past fall, several
friends battled severe illnesses. One died unexpectedly. A bout of bronchitis
impaled me onto my bed for a couple of weeks with a lingering cough and some
fatigue that pushed me to cut back my work days to part-time instead of a full
five day week.
Maybe Life wants me to finally
retire.
Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
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