Pandemic poses problems, promise

The coronavirus has certainly created many challenges, but I try to stay positive. I did, after all, save a small fortune on haircuts.

That’s because my wife has taken over the barbering duties. She’s not very good at it, but where am I going? I’m home all day, so if I don’t have the perfect coif, who’s going to complain?

It’s fair to say, the isolation has been tougher on her because she misses her friends. But I have to confess, there’s something to be said for solitude.

She calls me an antisocial apathetic recluse. Obviously an unwarranted and ridiculous charge. I have a dog.

She’s capable of forming instant relationships while my friends are guys I grew up with. People with a long and storied past. They’re alliances cultivated over decades. Her friends are people she met at the nail salon.

In order to satisfy her standard of camaraderie, one must clear a threshold I call “The Glimpse Factor.” If she catches your eye, there’s an excellent chance you’ll be having lasagna at our house.

Don’t get me wrong, her friends are lovely people, and that lady from the nail place, along with her husband, were delightful guests. She wore a designer dress and displayed the most exquisite nails, each, I estimate, approaching a full 2 inches in length.

They were quite an impressive couple. She had a doctorate, traveled around the globe, and authored three children’s books, but she couldn’t pick up a fork.

He was a philosophy professor and challenged us to prove we actually exist.

“I’m eating lasagna!” I proclaimed. “Therefore, I must still be ticking.” “Cogito ergo sum,” he replied.

I had no idea what that meant, but suddenly feared a raid from immigration officials. My wife had no such concern having baked plenty of lasagna.

So it was dinner and discourse with the nail couple, a stark contrast to my friends who are content with beer and a ballgame.

But because of the pandemic, it’s been a while since either of us had any guests.

To keep busy, we’ve immersed ourselves in our favorite activities. I make pizza and she orders shoes.

She’ll go online, pick out a pair she likes, and eventually the Amazon guy drops them at the door. He returns in a few days to leave another pair and pick up the ones he previously delivered.

My pizza-making will likely continue long after the pandemic ends, and there’s little chance for any letup in my wife’s routine since the shoe parade has been a continuing exercise since Al Gore invented the Internet.

I try to follow guidelines and stay put, but my wife is a risk-taker. Once a week, she goes to Trader Joe’s. I’m not saying that’s all bad. That’s how I get my mozzarella.

Other than that grocery run, we haven’t had any real human contact, unless you count the Amazon guy. Although, he’s usually back in his truck and on his way by the time my wife retrieves her shoes.

Else we’d be sharing lasagna.