Day 183

The first day of the second half of the year that might not ever end was a parade of mundane occurrences punctuated with margaritas and a walk to the Chicago River.

Sarah and I got up early to work out. Not like early early because hours don’t have much meaning anymore, but early enough to where you hit the alarm a couple of times and hope against hope you’re able to fall asleep even though you know you probably should be doing something more productive than scrolling through social media for an hour and a half.

Then, the hamsters hit the wheel.

Sarah headed to her workout class, me to a four mile run through the streets of the West Loop, mostly empty save for a couple of cars and some stragglers waiting in line for breakfast.

A quick shower and then we embark on the world’s shortest commute for the fourth month in a row, her retreating to a small desk just inside our front door, me to a makeshift workstation on our kitchen counter.

The first half of the first day of the second half of the year that might not ever end was numbing in the same way that each progressive day has dulled the senses. We worked, we hopped on Zoom calls, we checked in to make sure when the other one was going to be on a call so as to ensure we were being considerate…lather, rinse, repeat.

We’re stable, our jobs are secure, we’re lucky. I get it.

Morning becomes afternoon, afternoon becomes evening, and evening brings the wild card.

“What do we do for dinner?”

Ah, the question of the pandemic that unleashes a series of mysteries that bequeaths a sequence of shoulder shrugs before one person realizes that time has moved slower since all this nonsense started but not as slow as it does when two people who could otherwise think clearly are trying to figure out what to have for dinner.

“Eh, fuck it,” she says. “Let’s get margaritas.”

Have more romantic words ever been said?

The things that we can control to add some color to the gray are the things that keep us going throughout the most mindnumbing portion of our lives.

In this case, it was a simple suggestion to go to the place that we went to on our first date to grab margaritas and chips and salsa rather than heading to the grocery store and trying to muster up some energy that neither of us had to come up with and cook something for dinner.

That this is our biggest problem right now reminds me, again, that we’re lucky.

The things that we can control right now, at a time when everything is in a state of flux, are what keep us going. That could be anything from deciding to indulge yourself in some good Mexican food on a Wednesday night to taking 20 minutes to walk outside to the river and stare at the moon rising between buildings.

The moon above and the things that we can control add color to a neverending sea of gray.