Lassitude

The horizon has grown wider and brighter since I had my COVID shots, with my life regaining some of its former zest, with meetings and meals with friends, and more opportunities for social interaction that don’t involve Zoom calls and social media.

What surprises me is that it all seems harder than it was. I’ve been unable to entirely get over my COVID-inspired lassitude.

For nearly a year I didn’t do much. I stayed in my house and left only on important errands, like visiting the supermarket and the pharmacy and the karate school. (Kenpo is my Necessary Sanity Thing. It kept me from boiling over. The school was socially distanced and we all wore masks, but still it was riskier than I would have liked.)

When Kathy had to fly East for four months over the winter, I settled into the hermit life. I’d get up in the morning, have my coffee and a piece of fruit, and maybe watch some Netflix. At some point I’d do some form of exercise, often while watching more Netflix. Then I’d write late into the night. I missed no deadlines.

Though I could write, I couldn’t read for some reason. My mind was too scattered to stay on the page. When the opportunity arose to nominate for this year’s awards, I looked through my files and realized I’d read only one book published in 2020, and though my Kindle told me I’d read it, I didn’t remember it at all. And this was by a writer I like!

Cooking and cleaning and necessary repairs got done. Nothing more than that, though.

When Kathy came back, I had to make some adjustments. I was used to spending my mornings with my coffee and my fruit and my video, and here was this whole other person in the house who wanted to talk to me for some reason! It took me a while to get used to the idea that I was supposed to talk back.

And now my horizon has broadened right out, and I’m going out to see people and do stuff, and I’ve got to do yard work and ride my tractor and arrange for more necessary repairs. But it’s more difficult than it was, and takes more effort.

Mind you, once I get there, once I see my friends and have some drinks and share a fine meal, I have a good time, and the good time is effortless and joyful. It’s just making the arrangements and getting there that seems to take more dedication than it used to.

I wish I had a conclusion for this little essay, full of wit and insight, but I seem to lack the energy.