Goodbye and good riddance. Those are my feelings about the end of 2020. All those interesting year-end retrospectives I used to enjoy? Not this year. Who wants to dwell on the events of 2020? Maybe those who got married or had babies or bought a new house. Or got elected to the White House.
But me? Well, I learned I can have groceries delivered and never leave the house at all. Er, except for vet visits and to pick up prescriptions. Now I’m afraid I’ve become addicted to deliveries — despite the expense of shipping costs and tips. An expensive habit I hope I can break.
I had to buy a trickle charger for my car. Something I’d never heard of. But I drive so rarely that the battery died on me twice during the first few months of the year. At least now I don’t have to wonder if the car will start when I want to go someplace.
I got out once, finally, in September to see my primary care doctor, and found out I’m still healthy but now 5’7″ instead of the 5’8″ I’ve been for most of my life. (Even 5’8¼” for a while.) Bummer! But it explains why most of my pants have been getting too long. And here I’d thought maybe manufacturers were just accommodating women who wear heels all the time. In my closet you’ll find only sneakers, Uggs, sandals, and warm slippers.
I suppose we should all be delighted that several coronavirus vaccines came on line this year. Except that if Covid hadn’t been ravaging the world, they wouldn’t have been necessary in the first place.
And I am genuinely thrilled — over the moon — that Joe Biden was elected president and that with any luck, and the cooperation of the media, after January 20 we’ll never again hear the name Trump. (Hey, I can dream, can’t I?) I confess I’m taking particular delight in knowing he can’t retire at Mar-a-Lago as he’d planned because of some agreement he signed when he bought the place. Poor Donny. Whatever shall he do?
I threw out some old, badly worn t-shirts and sweatshirts that had been taking up space in my closet for waaay too long. Too worn to be donated to anyone. And for the first time in decades I remembered my mom’s old “rag bag.” The stuff I tossed would have gone into her rag bag to be used later as dust rags, wash rags, padding for her ironing board, or anything else that required some fabric. I assume that was a habit left over from WWII, when the motto was “Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.”
I finally called it quits when my third ophthalmologist since my glaucoma surgery left the practice and I was assigned a fourth one, so young she’s barely out of medical training. And I was also told I would be going to a different office location. So I found a glaucoma specialist out here who is taking new patients, and I have an appointment with her later this month. Should have made the change several years ago. Or at least started the search. Hope I like her.
I’ve been very grateful this year that I am an introvert already used to living alone (with a dog and a cat), so adjusting to loneliness has not been a problem. And I’ve been extremely fortunate in being retired and having the means to stay home while everything is delivered to me. I’ve lost an entire year out of however many I have left, but at least I’m still standing.
I have three resolutions for 2021 (this from someone who never makes resolutions):
- Get the Covid vaccine (both shots)
- Hugs, hugs, and more hugs from my family (they are only 1.5 miles away, but I’ve been with them just once since last March)