I'm still working. But with the airlines flying so few flights, there are far less to work, and far more days now spent at home filling my days with well... the same things so many others are.
All of my clothing drawers are perfectly organized, short sleeve tee shirts, tank tops, long sleeve tees, turtlenecks, light weight sweaters, beachwear, sleepwear, underwear, socks... everything is in it's perfect place, and with so much more time on my hands, little chance for me to misplace a favorite top or pair of pants. There is a box by the front door with a few clothing items in it, waiting to get shipped out to the Real Real. It's been years since I wore that pair of Dries Van Noten sandals, or the Alexander Wang sweater I was never really sure of... and the Gucci skirt purchased during Tom Ford's final days... I'm not sure it will ever fit my lifestyle again as it's been ages since I was out socially on the level of a Tom Ford outfit, anyway.
Bergdorf Goodman sent me a letter a couple of months ago saying that since I hadn't used my credit card in 3 years that they were going to cancel it by a certain date. I called to say please no, I'd rather keep it open in case I'm ever in need of an emergency lady outfit. I no longer foresee that as necessary and with Neiman Marcus declaring bankruptcy, I may never need it again. I've already put away my Barney's card as a keepsake.
Then there are all the little stores... the ones I visit often, just to window shop, and occasionally to buy something from a young designer or artist, just because. They are all closed... some already papered for closure. Some have websites, so I visit them to see if they have still survived in some form or another, knowing that this is a last hurrah for many; local shops, once full of information and gossip and that sort of community conversation that keeps a neighborhood, a neighborhood.
But I still take walks, though the sound effects have changed. I hear more birds now. I saw a bluejay the other day. And there is a nest of Robins in front of my building who sing every morning to wake me up. It's them or Alexa, though the latter is getting on my nerves ever since she learned my name. And without so many cars, there are more squirrels on the street; even a feral cat who I caught digging in my garden the other night. It won't be long now before the Central Park Raccoon population comes out to visit the trash on garbage night. They seem to travel in twos...
I run into people on my block a few times a day when I sit on my stoop for a smoke. Those in masks take long sweeping steps far away from me, as smokers are still a common evil. And those without masks just pass by chatting on their phones and staring at their masked counterparts with disdain. I'm still on the fence about it all. Masks still needed to protect us with equal need to get back to work. It's all very confusing to me... maybe because I've never stopped working. I still take the subway to JFK a few times a month to work a flight, or two, or three. The rules change constantly. Today's email from my employer with the latest covid19 rules... boarding and deplaning in small groups, customary temperature taking before passengers hit the gate... Tomorrow there will be something else. A new announcement, a new way of gate checking bags, a new way for passengers to be seated. It's a constantly changing feast of rules and regulations. By now, the planes should be 10 times cleaner than anybody's homes or public spaces...
It has been a time to finally take care of certain projects that have been sitting around gathering dust. I have about 45,000 aerial and landscape shots that needed editing and locations added. It's a bear. But I'm almost through the first 20,000. Seems I'll have plenty of time to finish it. I wonder what other people's projects are... projects waiting for a rainy day. Or many rainy days. It's been April for ages.
And then there is the food... I admit, when the first hints of self containment occurred we bought a mini freezer for the kitchen so we could stock up on some essentials. Most of all, to have room to freeze food for the leaner days that might occur.
My husband and I both cook. He came from a foodie family... I didn't which was all the more reason to learn to cook as soon as I was on my own. We filled the little freezer with homemade artisinal breads and lamb and beef stews, soups and cut up fresh corn and veggies, bagged and marked, wasabi salmon burgers and breaded tilapia. I became my grandmother who still had a shelter in her basement from the days of WWII. She made jams and pickled vegetables, canned fruit and chutneys. I made marmalades, pink grapefruit with pomegrante, and date and apricot scones. We bought extra meat and butter. We have enough freshly made foods for a dinner party or six, but nobody to serve it to. I've put on a couple of pounds - just enough to help fill that box by the front door for the clothing I'll never wear again.
I miss my friends. I miss hugging someone hello whom I haven't seen in a while. I miss having a random conversation with a stranger that ends with an introduction and a handshake. I miss buying a morning coffee and smiling at the barista as she spells my name wrong. I miss chatting with the UPS guy and our mail carrier about who is moving out of the neighborhood, and who is moving in. I miss having a cocktail with my co-workers after a long day of flying in bad weather. I miss people. We all do.
But this too shall pass. And there's always murder hornets...
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