Now needing a refresher in social graces

We are going to need a refresher course in social graces before rejoining humanity when this virus thing cools down.

I get dressed every day, but usually in workout clothes. Workout clothes don’t have zippers and waistbands. Do you know how dangerous that is?

If you saw what I wore every day, you’d think I am an exercise nut. You’d be wrong. At least about the exercise part. The husband dresses like he’s going to the gym. The gym has been closed since March.

A lot of businesses used to have Friday Casual, where the dress code was relaxed on Fridays. We’ve expanded Friday Casual to seven days a week.

I see nice clothes hanging in the closet, but I can’t remember the last time I wore any of them.

We need to revisit table etiquette as well. We now eat dinner many evenings with the television on because that’s when news updates about the virus are on. I used to insist the television be off during mealtime, but I no longer have the strength to say no.

We also used to clear the table for dinner and set a nice table. Now we just crowd our plates in next to the husband’s laptop, multiple external hard drives, a large scanner and towering piles of old family photographs he is archiving, also sitting on the table.

There was also a time we never had cell phones at the table. Now our cell phones are parked where our knives and spoons used to be.

I haven’t given up my will to live, just my will to nag.

Then there is the shouting. We both talk back to the television. Most every news report on the virus is contradicted by a subsequent report.

“Make up your mind!”

“Pick a side!”

One of the kids called the other night and asked what all the yelling was in the background.

“Your father is watching the news,” I said.

At least we both shower every day, although you-know-who sometimes doesn’t shower until late afternoon. The sun hasn’t gone down yet, so he says it counts.

Then there’s my hair. It’s like a large overgrown shrub in desperate need of a shearing.

It’s been 80 days since my shearing, but who’s counting. I thought the length might pull some of the curl out of it. It did.

Then the humidity came.

Humidity gives curly, frizzy hair more density, more volume and more frizz. My hair looks like the world’s largest dust ball that was ever swept from beneath a bed.

We were looking at a cell phone picture of one of the grands when the husband said, “Look at what smooth, beautiful hair she has. It’s perfectly straight.”

When he was in the other room, I may have stirred his old family photos and gotten the top few out of chronological order. He walked in and I said, “I was just tidying up.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

We’re making progress.

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