Full Disclosure: The Still Life

Is it me or does it seem like someone pressed “pause” on life, then walked away with the remote control? 

To get a better handle on this, I decided to conduct informal, unsanctioned and entirely unscientific research. As the New Canaanite’s self-appointed resident scientista, I have concluded that time is passing, yet it is also oddly standing still. In order to mark said passage of time and measure this phenomenon, I find that looking in a mirror at my follicular “roots” is a good gauge. According to my hair-based metric system, it’s been two-inches-of-roots-ago since things have been normal around here. 

Though I follow the rules of social distancing, the concept is unnerving, and as unnatural as my former dye-job. The practice of doing little, planning nothing and going nowhere, all at the same time, is lonely (but important) work. What’s just as odd is holding the title of stay-at-home-mom while being required to “stay home” even more than you usually do–that’s a redundant job for someone who honed those skills long ago. You see, I’m a professional at staying put. I am totally acing the shelter-in-place decree; however, my cabin fever is getting so bad that I would look forward to leaving my house for a colonoscopy or even a mammogram—maybe both. In one visit. Just for kicks. 

Yet here we are, right where we were last month, and seemingly where we will be for many-more-inches-of-roots to come. 

As one day blurs into the next, minor and insignificant daily activities (such as analyzing your hair part and assessing the magnitude of the color demarcation line) are repeated to maintain a sense of purpose and accomplishment. The bar for productivity has been set so low that I have devolved into a toddler who needs to be awarded a star on a chore chart. After I empty the dishwasher or brush my teeth, I look around for a high five from my quaranteammates. Up top … anybody?

Motivation to pull yourself together can be tough when socializing is at a standstill and you look frightful. It doesn’t help that yesterday’s pajamas transition into today’s loungewear. For me, what once was heralded as Shabby Chic has now been personally rebranded, and promoted daily, as Homebound Freak. Fortunately, my signature evening-to-day-back-to-evening look is suitable for the one activity that consistently gets me out of the house: walking the dog. My pup has never gotten this much action, and at this point, she probably has tendinitis-of-the-everything from being my go-to, cheery workout buddy. At least someone around here is invariably upbeat and doesn’t have to worry about her roots.

My mood, on the other hand, is 100% weather contingent. Like a houseplant, I perk up on sunny days. And then make a valiant effort to run away from home—I mean, enjoy the outdoors. My fairweather activity of choice had been walking the Waveny trails until the park’s closure, a psychological setback for the already unstable. It pained me to jog along South Avenue and witness people frolicking on Waveny’s (mostly) empty trails, blissfully ignoring the “park closed” signs. While I played the live-action version of Frogger and dodged traffic, recreational rebels made Waveny their private sanctuary. Of course, when I finally worked through my anger and grew numb to the injustice, the trails reopened. As soon as the sun appears, I will throw on my running shoes and revel in regaining a small taste of freedom.

During these uncertain times, it’s important to take a “win” when you can get one. I congratulate myself for any sign of progress and forward momentum, patting myself on the back for showering before my weekly grocery run—my one social outing and the epicenter of activity. Strangely, when I arrive at the market, I feel like an extra in “The Handmaid’s Tale”—waiting in line solemnly to enter the store, donning a face mask, and walking through the aisles in eerie silence. However, it’s both a huge rush to see other humans in a retail setting and a personal accomplishment to buy anything other than a cart of Doritos and peanut M&Ms. See, #winning, even if it is a totally surreal experience. 

Since I’m starting to chalk up a few minor wins, I can only assume that things are starting to head in the right direction. I am hoping that local businesses (especially hair salons) will safely, and responsibly, reopen before my roots have taken over and I am described as “distinguished.” It would be really nice to move on and focus on different obstacles, just for the sake of change. Say, isn’t it almost time to start worrying about those encephalitis-transmitting mosquitoes again? On the other hand, maybe we should keep life on “pause” a bit longer.