Isolation offers us freedom

The thing I’ll refer to only as the Main Headline Event of 2020 certainly put our world on hold.

For a time, our beauty treatments were put on hold. We became just as desperate to get our hair and nails done as the hairstylists, barbers and nail techs were to get back to work and give us what we wanted.

Our bills were put on hold. Out of the goodness of their hearts, for public-relations purposes or by force, some of our creditors gave us financial breaks for a designated period.

Our social gatherings, even down to our church attendance for a while, were put on hold. No need to get our hair/nails done anyway. There was nowhere to go. And those unworn new summer-wardrobe pieces in our closets are already being eyed by moths.

On the flip side, there are allllll those things you normally hate to do — and, well, have been given an excuse to put off. Just a few:

The granddaddy of all biggies: Doing your federal income tax returns. Hubby Dre and I went through this ritual fairly early in the year, but we vicariously experienced the relief of those who found out they didn’t have to file their returns until this month. We get it. Even when you’re getting a refund, doing your taxes — especially when you’re self-employed and itemize — is akin to taking a hand saw and slowly self-amputating your foot with nary a drop of anesthesia.

Getting your annual physical exams. Even if you’ve reached a certain age and had best see your doctors every year because there’s no telling what body parts may be about to give out ... you were kinda relieved to have an excuse not to darken your docs’ doors. I was happy to put off going for the ol’ eye exam, even though my supply of contacts was near the end of the road. Even under the “best” circumstances, Dre and I procrastinate on going to the optometrist. The “best” circumstances: Dre having his exam and being told he only needed reading glasses. Me being told my monovision prescription (one contact lens for close-up vision; the other for distance vision) had changed little or none. My paying a nominal contact lens fitting fee and, after vision insurance kicks in, paying just a few bucks more for lenses that last me a year. In 2019, we had our eye exams in April. This year, we coasted along until June 27. That’s when we saw the doctor who took over from our semi-retired, stillsheltering-in-place doc; underwent newfangled digital exams that took all of maybe five minutes; found out Dre may have glaucoma (a follow-up visit yielded only an order to come back in six months); found out I’ll have cataract issues some years up the road; and found out that monovision is the 8-track-tape of Sight Fix-in’ for the Aging these

days. I ended up with a prescription for progressive bifocal contacts that put my sight squarely in the 21st century … and helped me to clearly see how much deductible money we had to fork over. And to think we missed out on all this joy for two months!

Clean. Hey, no company coming over, right? Only thing you can do with a clean house is take photos and brag on Instagram, and what does that get ya? So, knowing that a whiteglove inspection is all but forthcoming, you can happily dispense with the cleaning, dusting, mopping, vacuuming. So what if the place soon looks like a cross between a frat-party aftermath and the house in that original “Jumanji” movie? So what if life becomes a daily game of hide-and-seek, with the hidden items being your keys, wallet, phone, children/ grandchildren?

Visit or entertain relatives and associates who push your buttons. “Oh, so sorry [insert name of judgmental family member, spouse’s obnoxious friend, loudmouth in your book club, church program director who always puts you to work], it looks like it’ll be a while before we’ll be able to get together. Darn!”

Get that oil change and tire rotation. If you’re like me, you’ve been working from home and doing a lot less driving. Your car is screaming (via the dashboard indicator) that you’re several months behind on getting your hoopty serviced. In response, you laugh maniacally and yell, “Ha! But your odometer is nowhere near the mileage I have to have racked up on you before I take you back to the shop … and be told that I need not only an oil change and tire rotation but also a replacement cabin filter and a new transmission and a new engine and might as well just get a new car!” Now by the time you do go for the oil change, you might find out that the rest of the car’s innards fell out sometime between March and July and that now you really have to pay some money to get it fixed. But what a nice break!

Renew that newspaper subscription … Oh wait, never mind. You can’t procrastinate on doing what you have to do to keep doing what you know you love to do.

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