What a strange thing to write about: putting on a shirt for work.
I haven't worn a business or casual shirt for work since early March. Been wearing sweat pants, sweaters and sweatshirts since March and April when we went remote. Then shorts and a t-shirt when the warmer weather arrived.
It’s still June in my mind. Where did the summer go?
School went remote for our son at about the same time in March and he's already back in school as of two weeks ago. I remember when it all began and we tried grocery delivery and it’s outrageous costs; wiping down all our groceries after mask and glove-less shoppers dropped them off. What’s the point?
Who would’ve thought a mask would be so polarizing? Who would’ve thought so many things would become normal. Why aren’t we all listening to Dr. Fauci together? When did 2+2 start equaling 5?
A colleague battled Covid for three weeks alone in his apartment. On the toughest nights when he didn't think he would make it to morning he followed his COVID routine: shower and dress; sit on his sofa until he fell asleep. He wanted to make sure that if he died, the medics, his neighbor or family would find him in a respectable state when he didn't answer the knock on his door or phone calls. Moms and aunts of friends have passed.
I’m gonna wear a shirt tomorrow. One of the many dry-cleaned shirts hanging in the closet since March, waiting to be worn. I miss the old normal. All of it.
I’ll pick the brightest and loudest colored one I have.
I invite you to join me this week with your brightest for your Skype or Zoom call.