On a bright and beautiful Saturday morning during the umpteenth day of self-quarantine, I ventured out to pick up a massage chair my cousin had gifted me. Pre-pandemic, he’d hosted movie nights at his place. I’d had the joy of sitting in that chair while we talked and joked so much that sometimes a movie wasn’t actually shown.
For most of my Zoom calls, I’d rolled in my work chair from my bedroom, where my office is set up, into the dining room. Now, my massage chair is there. Something about a vibrating chair that enhances the joy of drinking. No meeting will ever be dull again.
My cousin warned me that I could time travel (ie fall asleep) in that chair if I wasn’t careful.
I nearly did that once, but at least I wasn’t in a meeting.
“How’re doing?” is usually said as a form of greeting without really wanting to hear any heavy response. Thanks to this pandemic, some people feel bad for asking as if it’s still a superficial question. While I’m not so far gone after seemingly innumerable days in self-quarantine to reply, “You know how the fuck I’m doing,” I have an amusing response:
“I’m sitting in self-quarantine heaven with this massage chair, sipping a glass of Malbec (or margarita), and talking to you.”
May not be much, but it’s something. That’s all most of us are looking for right about now. An amusing distraction, but not too much to cause FOMO. Or make us feel guilty for not doing more. Or any other motivation to invite negativity in.