Last updated on November 26, 2023
Exhaustion is winning. I’m tired. Call it burnout or fatigue or whatever else might fit. I cannot think clearly, I’m on edge, and I’m quite short-tempered with everything and everyone. I want a break. Time alone. Quiet time with minimal interactions with anyone… maybe no interactions at all.
Before moving to Texas, before the pandemic, I’d go to a diner and write. I’d work and help myself to the salad bar at Eat-n-Park or order an endless stack at King’s Family Restaurant. In Minneapolis, it was Chianti Grill. In California, my go-to places changed names a few times, including a Bob’s Big Boy.
Bottomless coffee or tea and whatever food was served that I could make last for a couple of hours.
To sit and write and think… alone.
Another year without my breaks. Without my all-night diner sanctuaries, with their soups, salads, and breakfast specials.
The start of 2022 technically marks the start of what will be our third year with COVID-19, the “novel” coronavirus having lost its novelty two years ago.
Sitting in my rocker-recliner, working in my office, or sitting on the couch is not the same as sitting in a diner. There’s something different about the food, the coffee, and the atmosphere. I’m writing this at 1 a.m. with the girls and Susan asleep. I hear the trains roll by, sounding their horns as they approach the crossing gates. I’ve eaten some nuts and “steak strips” while drinking at least six cans of infused sparkling water. I’d rather be in a diner.
Will it be that 2019 was the last “normal” year some of us will recall? The last pre-pandemic / endemic year for a decade or two?
Home reminds me of how long we’ve all been… stuck at home!
When our girls came home on March 13, 2020, it was for the start of spring break. Most of us suspected there might be a lockdown, based on the panicked news coverage. And sure enough, a break turned into the remainder of the school year. Virtual learning was mostly a waste.
Surely 2020-21 would be the school year during which we all returned to normal. Except it wasn’t.
Okay, then 2021-22 could finally be that normal school year we needed! Nope. It hasn’t been normal, either.
Homeschooling, virtual learning, or hybrid, every family with school-aged children is experiencing another frustrating year of pandemic parenting.
During the day, I try my best to keep our youngest on task while periodically checking on her older sister. In the afternoon, I supervise their physical education time. By dinner, I’m ready for a nap. After they are in bed, I prepare the next day’s work for our little homeschool academy. I record grades, read their book reports, and wonder where the hours go.
Every day, every single day, I wonder if Susan and I are being too cautious. Should the girls be back on campus? Should we relax and assume we’re safe from the latest variants?
We’re using curbside service. A lot of online shopping. Drive-through at the pharmacy. Limiting errands and always wearing N95 masks when we must be around people.
We’ve been doing this almost two years. I’m sick of it.
I have no desire to meet up with people. I’m don’t miss meetings or social gatherings. No, I don’t want to be out and about around lots of people. I’m not eager to be in crowded, noisy spaces. I just miss my diner time. My time, in spaces I found relaxing. Specific spaces that felt comfortable.
The girls need a break, Susan needs a break, and I need a break. There’s such a thing as too much together time. Two years certainly qualifies.
The sameness of every day is depressing. I’m not like Susan, who can eat the same breakfast and lunch every day. She can sit and read a book on the couch and be content-ish at night.
I’m not optimistic, no matter what the “experts” are saying on television or being quoted as saying in news articles. I don’t trust any optimists after the last few years. There will be another variant and more booster shots and more waves. The pandemic will become endemic and life might never be the way it was.
When normal does return, I assume I’ll be left behind. After years of homeschooling, the girls will go back and I’ll be at home, without much purpose. I’ll try to work on projects that are unlikely to be published, produced, heard, or read. I’ll try to create work, and that will remind me that I should have finished the projects during all the “free time” I had long ago.
During the pandemic, at least I have tasks and duties. The girls and their educations are my responsibility during the weekdays. What will I do when normal returns? Will the blog and podcast magically burst into the rankings? Will I finally pitch a manuscript to a publisher? Will I finally have a career of some sort? Or will the end of the pandemic remind me that I’m not much of anything?
I want to be teaching a college course during the day, writing at night, and having fun with the girls on weekends.
We all need 2022 to end closer to normalcy. And I need my diner time.