A very big, heartfelt thank you to all you people out there who are performing “essential services” – naturally health-care workers top this list, those keeping the government ticking over, the grocery store people – there are loads of you who are keeping on keeping on to keep us, with luck and good hygiene, safe and well.
I know this is no doubt a trivial matter to pretty much all of you, but I think we need to add to the list of those able to work who have been put on the back burner for now. They have indeed become essential to me of late.
I need a haircut, for heaven’s sake. I’m starting to look like Mrs. Einstein. My hair grows extremely fast, and thick as it is, it grows out, not down. If I don’t get a facial fairly soon I’m going to start looking like Albert.
To paraphrase my favorite comedian, Bill Connolly – my facial hair is accelerating for reasons known only to itself. I used to pluck it once every 30 years, and now it’s once a month. Presumably the body knows what it’s doing, but it’s rather baffling to figure out what is going to happen to me that requires growing nasal hair to deal with it.
My nails are starting to look at tad ragged around the edges, and I think I might be sinking into a tiny bit of depression if I don’t get some pampering p.d.q., let me tell you.
And while I love my Sir to death, things could get ugly.
We saw a very funny video on Facebook the other day – a woman was hiding in her closet, her face eerily lit by her cell phone. She was fearful of her reaction to the question from her other half, “where are the spoons?”
Her voice, quavering on the edge of an emotional breakdown, shuddered out “we’ve been married for 30 years. The spoons are where they always have been.” She didn’t want to listen to her hubby reminiscing about old cassette tapes, questioning America’s choice to ride through a desert on a horse with no name. “Why couldn’t they have named their horse for God’s sake!” She’d secreted herself in the closet to hide from her husband as he wanted to re-watch all the “Planet of the Apes” movies with her.
I will confess I’ve become just a tad snippy with Sir. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s really hard to bite one’s tongue when it’s one of the few things allowed out in these uncertain times.
Oh I know – we have some clippers in the house! I asked Sir if he would give me a little trim around my neckline, and he looked at me like I’d lost my mind – again.
“No way!” he exclaimed. “I could give you a reverse Mohawk!”
OK, fair enough. I will shelve that idea for now.
Manicure? No, he couldn’t manage that. Pedicure? Oh, get real, Annie. Massage? I think not.
Love you as I do, dearest Sir, remember the old adage: For better, for worse, but not for lunch.
Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at email@example.com.