A GOOD DAY

Last night I dreamed that I was packing a suitcase in order to move back into my house.

WHAT A NIGHTMARE!

I am sure that I would hate to move in with that young couple who bought my house, and share a bathroom with their two rambunctious sons. I’d especially find it daunting to deal with their two dogs.  I understand that one of them is a biter. Don’t know if it’s one of the dogs or one of the kids. Not having either the responsibility, nor the unexpected expenses, of a house is a
relief—especially in these COVID-19 days.

I am happily ensconced in my new senior residence, and like everyone who lives and works here. Maybe being six feet apart from people is what gives me that warm and fuzzy feeling, although, by now,  I am able to recognize the top-half of almost everyone’s face. Other than taking my car out for a spin once a week, walking two miles on the paths around the buildings daily, and doing aerobic exercises in the pool (one person at a time in the pool) I have not left the premises since March 15.

Right now, my major concern is that all of the elevators have a 4000 lb. limit. I have to stop eating so much! The menu is varied, and, although the five restaurants are closed, most of the time, the dinners delivered to my apartment are delicious except for an occasional surprise that doesn’t resemble its description. Not being a finicky eater, I eat it anyway. This brings back a nostalgic memory of my college years at the University of Michigan, when, one evening, all the students in the dining room marched out in protest of the “mystery meat,” that, even coagulated white sauce, could not disguise. It looked more like a chemistry experiment than a dinner. I ate it anyway, and never did grow fangs or hair on my knuckles. But, I always did blame that meal on my poor grade in Geology.

After sixty years of cooking, I take great pleasure in having my dinners prepared for me. I could also order breakfast and lunch, but if I did that, I’d end up looking like a bowling ball, and they’d have to roll me out of my apartment when this epidemic is finally held at bay.

In the meantime, it is predicted that as many as 80% of all restaurants in the country will go out of business. It is hard to chew while wearing a mask. However, I am optimistic that eventually new establishments will rise out of the rubble and prosper—just like they did after the great flood in New Orleans.

Americans are a resilient, creative bunch of people, and although it took two years after the pandemic of 1918, the country did bounce back, and until recently, no one even talked about that terrible epidemic.

So, here’s some good advice from my friend Fay who always says,; “Attitude is everything!” Right now, wearing masks in public seems like a rather primitive way to protect ourselves, and others, from a killer disease, but it does seem to work. So, if you follow that rule, and distance from people, and you are a healthy person today—it’s a good thing!

A good day, in a bad year, is always a very, very good day!

Esther Blumenfeld