A few weeks ago, my blogging buddy Bill over at A Silly Place nominated me to write about a special topic: the end of quarantine. I like a solid prompt, and this is just about as good as it gets.
So, here it is. What will the end of this quarantine look like for me? Maybe months ahead, what will I do?
This is how I imagine my future day, from start to finish.
Good morning, sunshine
In post-quarantine life, I imagine a full weekend. It’s Saturday morning, and I’m enjoying a cup of coffee in my new home (Chad brought it to me in bed, of course) (he remains the best in this fantasy).
I’m a little slow to wake up, after a full work week with plenty to do and lots of money made (wishful thinking, maybe, but I’m doing it nonetheless). My goldendoodle puppy, Wally, does his best to wake me up. He rolls around the bed, licks my toes, and wags his tail impatiently for some in-the-yard fun. Or food. Or both.
Chad and I run through the plans of the day. A slow start, but we’re gearing up for a full day. We have plans, finally.
Around the house
Even in my best-case post-quarantine scenario, I imagine the normalcy of everyday life at home. We’ll spend some time cleaning and picking up, scrambling for perfection in anticipation of visitors.
Project-wise, we’ll have our hands full. Our house is a work-in-progress, and there’s always a trip to Lowes to be made. Maybe we’ll finally be replacing those ugly lighting fixtures, or installing matching blinds. A screen could be fixed, or our garden tended to. Maybe I’ll have to hang a shelf or a frame to fill or an item to add to our ever-growing decor wish list. It might be as glamorous as teaching Wally how to ask to go outside for the restroom.
For sure, though, we’ll be staging our guest bedroom and bathroom and preparing it for overnight guests.
I anticipate a few trips outside the home. First, it’d be a gift to grab a latte. However, this isn’t our norm—New Castle doesn’t have a coffee shop, so it’s a 20 minute drive if I want some espresso, and our budget likely won’t accommodate that anyway. But this is a dream, right?
A latte it is. Vanilla, please.
Later in the day, we’ll need to go to the store for party-type snacks and drinks. We’ll still wear our masks, just to be safe, but the aisles won’t smell of fear and uncertainty. It’ll be a quick trip, and we won’t feel guilty for both running in.
If we’re expecting company, there won’t be time to grab a drink at a local brewery. It’s okay, though, because Chad and I did the night before. It was amazing—the beer was delicious, our shared appetizer greasy, and we meant it when we clinked glasses and said, “cheers!”
People are at our home for the very first time. We’re hosting some friends overnight, and our parents have their Airstream parked nearby (maybe in our carport, if that’s allowed. Not sure yet!). There are dogs running around, which is perfectly okay (and encouraged) since we’re not renters anymore.
It’s a housewarming party. Snacks are prepped, drinks are poured, friends are gathering, music is playing. Wally is introducing himself to everyone, and we’re giving long hugs and playing catch up after months apart. Our patio has string lights, our backyard is bustling, and our neighbors come on over, too.
For those who can’t make it, it’s okay—we’ve scheduled dates for visits. Upcoming weekends will be packed with overnight stays and road trips. Far-away family, like my brother, sister-in-law, nephew, and new baby, will have no problem scheduling a flight. We’re happy knowing that my grandparents are healthy and safe, and we’ll see them soon.
And we’ll end the night in good spirits, after laughing and dancing and many, many tours. There might be a mess to clean up in the morning, and we might not feel like getting up too early with Wally, but we’ll be thankful. Happy, healthy, and grateful for the opportunity to meet and be merry.
Thanks, Bill, for allowing me to imagine such a great time.