Adventures in Post Pandemic Life

 

So yesterday was my first trip alone downtown since the pandemic and it wasn’t pretty.

Oh my fucking god, I forget how to do everything.

Well, in all fairness to myself, I wasn’t in the best head.  I’ve been having weird blurry vision occasionally in my left eye, but I’m a raging hypochondriac and life with Gary is very...smoky. So who knows?  Maybe it was my imagination.

But yeah, okay, my mother died of a brain tumor and I know it’s one of the symptoms and Web MD told me if I had one, my eye doctor would see it immediately and tell me.

So when my doctor spent way more time on my left eye than right and had me do stuff with that eye she didn’t ask with the other and then pulled up her chair to talk with me in the middle of the exam I heard white noise and broke out into a sweat I haven’t had since menopause.

I seriously almost threw up all over her office.

“Robin, you have the start of a cataract in your left eye,” she started to say.

“Oh thank you!” I shouted.

“You’re thanking me for a cataract?” Was it my imagination or did she back another six feet away?

I’m not going to torture myself by rehashing how socially inept I am now, and what idiotic things I babbled to my eye doctor, who probably thinks I am a total freak and not the good kind.

And then...

And then I ordered an Uber for the first time since March 2020 and I completely forgot how.  I mean, I know I was a mess from the eye doctor, but I was so disoriented, I pulled up the app and couldn’t remember how to use it.

Because the fuckers changed it during the pandemic.

Whose brilliant idea was that?

My driver was arriving in a silver Prius.  I had eyedrops in from my exam, I am blind as a bat, and every other fucking car was silver.

Anyway, by the time I got home, I was an anxiety ridden mess.

But hey hey, I did it, and now I know I can.

But wow, it was weird.

I really did stay in the house for over a year and the few times I did go out, it was with Gary.  

Gary and I have literally been together 24/7 since March 2020 so even just walking down Walnut Street alone felt surreal.

I didn’t like it.

Oh well, I’m sure it will get easier, if not, I’ll find a good therapist 😎

For now, it’s upstairs to work.

I’m off to answer 90 Interrogatories courtesy of some sadistic dickhead defense attorney.

Two can play at that game, asshole, I’ve got twelve more days.

Not that I’m counting.

Love,
Robin Slick, Paralegal 

(for twelve more days)