Like most Americans, there are quite a few things I’ve been guilty of taking for granted. The coronavirus is teaching me that. Things I didn’t appreciate enough or went through the motions on. Along with it, and as I find myself finishing up my third week of working from home (and what has already been a lifetime of social distancing,) I’ve also begun to realize how many things I miss. Things I can’t wait to do again once this whole coronavirus pandemic is over and a distant memory.
Usually, it’s the little things. Never the big ones. The small, seemingly-inconsequential stuff that I never used to give much thought to. Like getting my hair cut. My wife has banned me from that one (sorry Price’s Barber Shop!) My hair now looks like a cross between modern art and what happens to a marshmallow when you toss it in a fire. I think my follicles are actually some kind of imprisoned demon yearning to be free, and it takes all of my strength to contain it.
I try to slick it down, pressing and tucking and unspooling, but just when I think I have things under control and go about my business, I hear a loud snap like a pine tree cracking in half and elaborate curls spring out, making my head look like a K-9 agility course full of rings.