The complaining started as soon as we sat down to eat. Actually, it started before that, on the fifty-yard walk from the house to the dinner table. Single-file, six feet apart, and masks firmly in place, of course.
“Holy crap is it cold,” our son yelled.
“Why are we eating outside when its twelve degrees?” our daughter asked. That was followed quickly by another inquiry.
“And why is Nana sitting in the inflatable snow globe?”
The anxiety level had been rising for weeks. Thinking you might be the target of a government investigation will often increase the stress you feel.
I texted Terri and asked her if she had a moment. A minute later she stepped into the home office, chipper. And why not, it was the weekend. Good enough reason to be chipper and upbeat, unless of course you think you might be the target of a government investigation.
The meeting took place after the big-box store had closed for the night. They gathered back in the dark, drafty space by the compactor, near the loading dock doors. It was clear from the get-go that tempers were high, feeling were hurt, and answers were needed.
“Someone want to tell me how this even happens?” Twenty-one yelled.
It was quite a crowd that had gathered out front of the house. I took it as a sign that pandemic or no pandemic, give the kids some good wholesome Halloween fun and they would turn out in droves.
I was upstairs in the home office, looking down on the throng from the open window.
“Moms and dads, let’s try to keep the little ones under control, okay?” I yelled. “Six feet between groups, please. Don’t worry, you’ll all get a turn. Keep those masks on, now.”
It was an odd question from Wilson, but then again so many from him were on the strange side.
“Are you going to the room for kvetching?” he asked.
I stared at him from behind my lab goggles, puzzled. There were only a few of us back in the office, so in general the kvetching was a bit on the low side these days. I wasn’t quite sure there was a need for an entirely separate room in which to kvetch.
Asleep on the couch, a glorious Sunday afternoon nap to be followed by a socially-distant cookout at the Wald’s place a few blocks over. It doesn’t get a whole lot better, especially during the stress and strain of the pandemic.
I was drifting off into that nice in-between place just before the deep sleep kicks in when I heard a distant buzzing. Maybe a fly had slipped inside. It wasn’t exactly peak season for house flies, but whatever it was, it could wait. When I got up I would tackle the pest it if still insisted on visiting.