A humor series on navigating this difficult time
I’m sharing another installment of a humor series from my friend Pam Goldman, centering on a woman named Ramona, who tries to help… in her own way. If you’re new to this series: Here’s the previous installment.
I am beginning to feel I am under house arrest and K. is the warden. He fears for his life whenever I go out (which is almost never) but maybe rightly so, as I am one half of his pod.
He does make exceptions however. When we ordered Chanukah gifts online from Target for our grandchildren the rules stated only one of us could go inside the store to retrieve purchases at the PICK UP DESK. Who do you think went in? That is correct.
I didn’t mind because I was happy for the opportunity to have a brief interchange with someone who is not my husband, namely a sales “associate” on whose plastic tag was written in black Sharpie, “Brittany, SALES ASSOCIATE.”
When did sales people become “associates?” Was I napping when that happened? Am I to assume the new nomenclature means the corporate brass have given Brittany substantial amounts of stock in the company and perhaps an expense account?
Are these the same Customer Relations geniuses who decided I am now a ‘guest?’ I am not a guest. No one invited me to Target. I went on my own volition. If I were truly a guest I would expect my host, Target, to pick up my tab.
Last weekend K. and I left the reservation to meet the family en-masked at a state park, under an outdoor pavilion that had picnic tables and indoor restrooms, one for men and one for women.
Imagine my surprise when I saw the sign on the womens’ bathroom: CLOSED FOR WINTER. Do park rangers think humans do not pee in winter? In fact, females of the species pee twice as much in cold weather. (That is an alternative fact but I thought Sarah Palin fans might buy it).
Did I mind that I would have to go behind the pavilion in 39 degree weather, my breath making little clouds as I exhaled? Not really. Luckily I had brought my own roll! What pissed me off was the squirrel watching with his beady little eyes until I finished. Then he scurries up a tree. Nuts to him!
I have an unrelated question. Do you have ALEXA in your home? We have 6 of her scattered throughout the house. K. is obsessed… two downstairs, 4 upstairs. He relies on her for the time, temperature and music.
Some days K. talks to ALEXA more than he talks to me. I tell him “There are 3 people in this marriage; so it’s a bit crowded.” Not that I’m at all jealous of ALEXA. I almost like her. I felt absolutely awful once when I was dusting and dropped her on the floor. She actually forgave me, saying, “That’s ok. I’m alright.”
Yesterday I was in the bathroom where we have a very small ALEXA called a DOT. I asked her about the weather. She gave me the current temperature and the day’s forecast. She then paused and said in a very inappropriate manner “We’ve interacted many times. Don’t you think I should know your name?” I responded immediately “No!” Was ALEXA making a move? Flustered, I shut her down and exited the bathroom.
Did I tell you I go to a Physical Therapist who also sees dogs? I see her for my back issue and am happy to report there are two distinct areas for me and Glenn, the Black Lab she sees after me. And all patients, two-legged and four-legged must wear masks.
Glenn came in with a walker two weeks ago and has now graduated to a sort of chariot with wheels. (He’s changed his name to Spartacus). I’m tempted to ask his owner if Glenn is religious about doing his exercises at home. I am not and thought perhaps Glenn would be willing to do them together on FaceTime, unmasked, of course.
Keep your eyes and ears and arms open for your turn in the vaccination line. I herd immunity is possible if we all do it. ☺