Living in self-isolation reminds me of the 1963 song by Nat King Cole, “The Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days of Summer.” The title is spot-on, but unlike the song, this new normal doesn’t feel ideal or conjure images of sodas and pretzels and beer. Instead, I am lazy, each passing week is hazy, and we are indeed living in crazy days.
I’m intrigued by the creativity and ingenuity of people. My television is on more now than usual, and as I watch the news, I’m impressed by how people entertain themselves and each other. Besides singing and playing tennis from apartment windows, dancing with mirrors, skiing down sofa pillows, one guy climbed mountains made from bedsheets laid on the floor. My favorite is people using hydraulic lifts to say, “I love you,” or, “Happy Birthday,” to loved ones in isolation.
My efforts are not as impressive, but owning a bicycle and being able to walk are included on my gratitude and daily activities list—I can social distance and still get out of the house.
Surprisingly, working on a computer is difficult. I can’t seem to focus on writing. Even this weekly column is a challenge—my thoughts are stuck on the same topic, and my mental health suggestions for you, my readers, have been exhausted. Cleaning the garage has not entered my mind, and I’m unmotivated to start new art projects.
In life before this shutdown, I often said and heard, “I wish there were more hours in the day,” or, “There is never enough time to do everything I want to do.” Now I have all day, every day, with enough time to squash all those excuses, and I usually choose less than more. Not always, I spent the last two days washing windows and screens. Last night I started a new puzzle and finished an audiobook, the third one this week. I’ve called friends I haven’t spoken with in years, and today I am going to start page one of the manual of how to play the electronic piano I bought more than ten years ago.
Lazy is how I am feeling. Hazy describes my worry about people without jobs and kids without school and sports. This whole experience has us in a state of abnormal.
I need to practice what I would tell a client, “Allow yourself to be normal.” Today does not fall into the same range as last month or last year. Life today is what we have—enjoy.
Please join me and accept wherever you are and whatever you are capable of doing. At so many levels, we ARE in this together, and wisdom gained is priceless.
Until the next time: Live while you live.
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