It is more of an exhaustion of
available choices leaving the only thing left to watch is K-9, Mr.
Destiny, About Last Night, and Taking Care of Business.
Porky-pigging while working is
I haven’t done this, because I still
have some dignity left. You know pants are optional for many working from
March is a write-off
I flipped the family calendar to April
on March 20th. I’m guessing I’ll be turning to May sometime this
When did everyone discover the fun
of being outdoors?
I think nothing of a cracking out a
solid 5 mile run when it is snowing. Now everyone is walking around like it is
summer time and clogging up my sidewalks.
Avoiding people has its advantages
No more idiots cutting you off in traffic, small stalk with acquaintances, or a need to dress to impress.
I tried isolating from isolating
The infighting in our house was so unmanageable, my youngest son and I pitched a tent in the backyard for a quiet night’s sleep in 28-degree weather.
My hair is getting long
I’m looking like a hippie. It hasn’t
been this long since I decided to try out the grunge look in high school-which
lasted all of six weeks. Maybe this time I’ll go for shoulder length hair
like Mark Wahlberg in the movie Rock Star. Plus, I’ll be saving gobs of
money on haircuts.
I’m sleeping more
With no commute, I’m sleeping an
extra 60-90 minutes a night leading me to believe I’ve been depriving myself of
sleep for 20+ years.
My wife and I have totally different versions of the ideal quarantine.
Me: “This wouldn’t be so bad without kids. The two of us with lots of wine and movies.”
My wife: “Oh I was thinking: Me, all alone, in silence, and lots of sleep.”
I would suck at Real World.
I’m trapped in my home with my best friend and three people I fathered and we are ready to kill each other. No way could I survive being confined in a house with fourteen strangers.
Before the virus I was a closet hoarder and didn’t know it.
As a guy who shops at Costco on a weekly basis, I was already warehousing food and supplies well before the virus hit, but I didn’t know I was a hoarder. Once the quarantine started, I realized we have enough food to carry us for at least three weeks before we dip into my 150 cans of sardines (which I bought the limit when they were on sale about two months ago).
People have way too much free time.
I now realize most of my time spent during the weekends before the lock down was busy work, and not really adding much to the overall betterment of my life. It was really an elaborate time suck masked as productivity. No one needs to go to Costco once a week.
Booze is a great crutch.
I went from drinking a bottle of wine a week before ’28 Days Later’ to two snifters of whisky a night.
We waste a lot of food.
Nothing says America like arranging leftovers in a Tupperware container for the next night’s dinner then throwing it out the following day, because you don’t have a taste for day-old meatloaf. Now we eat the leftovers, because martial law will be here any day and you need to conserve food like the rest of the world has done for years.
It takes a village (because your house is too small)
Our house is big enough for everyone in the family to have two rooms to themselves. Somehow we all end up in the same room yelling louder than the next person about who didn’t wash their hands.
There is a thing as too much news.
Two decades ago your only source of current events was the evening news. You only thought the world was ending once a day. Now I’m getting neck cramps as I re-read some internet article after doing the same google search, “Will coronavirus kill me?” multiple times a day.
All those things I said I would do if I could ever got the chance to be locked in my home are still not getting done.
Cleaning the garage, starting a book, and parting out a car for fun are going to have to wait for the next global shelter in place.
My kids really annoy me, but I probably annoy them more.
Special thanks to M.A. for writing our first guest blog post. Lord knows we are hungry for content here at Skiinginjeans, so thanks for stepping up M.A.
It starts before school even gets out for summer. You may be in the pick-up line for preschool, or waiting at the bus stop for your kids, but inevitably you will start to hear variations on the same theme. Namely, “what are you doing this summer?” While this may seem like an innocent enough question, just mom-to-mom small talk, the underlying gist, of course, is “where are you going (translation: how much are you spending) on vacation this summer?” and/or “what camps / enrichment activities are your kids enrolled in?”
While much could be said, and many a blog post have already sufficiently skewered, the myriad options for upper middleclass kids these days – from over -the-top sleepaway camps costing upwards of $10,000 per session, intensive sports training camps for kids (meaning, their parents) dreaming of being the next D1 recruit, or even local or town-subisdized day camps that offer impressive field trips, yoga sessions and sushi making classes, little attention has been paid to the phenomenon of what I call “vacationing en masse.” In other words, spending your vacation with all of the same people that you spend your day-to-day life with, often in a locale that really isn’t all that different from where you live. Up and down the East coast, from the suburbs of NY (including coastal CT), all the way to Boston, you can’t throw a stone without hitting someone who spends the majority of their summer in Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard or Nantucket. In the city (a/k/a Manhattan), it’s the Hamptons or bust. Sure, some will claim to be cooler or more lowkey by going to Block Island, Shelter Island, or Montauk (which is technically just the Hamptons, but further). Don’t be fooled: these are still just summer outposts of the same communities. And it’s not just an East Coast phenomenon; Midwesterners flock to their Michigan or Lake Geneva “cottages” (often more akin to mansions), southerners to the mountains of North Carolina or the beaches of South Carolina, and Californians, to Malibu. It’s getting away, without getting away. Which begs the question, why go at all?
Sure, all of these places are certainly vacation-worthy in a purely objective sense. They boast beautiful scenery, pristine beaches, gourmet restaurants, a multitude of activities for both the young and the not-so-young. However, when you consider paying an exorbitant premium for lodging (assuming you were fortuitous enough to book at least 9-12 months in advance), spending hours in gridlock traffic getting there (if, in the case of Nantucket or the Vineyard, you were smart enough to book your ferry well in advance; more on the particular travails of the ferry below), the horrific traffic once you are there, and getting shut out of the aforementioned gourmet restaurants due to the crowds, one starts to wonder what is the point of it all.
For wardrobe assistance, head to…. https://castawayclothing.com/collections/mens-embroidered-pants
Meet New People?
More than any of this though, the idea of spending precious summer weeks with the same friends and acquaintances you see daily during the other three seasons of the year is mind-boggling. Maybe it’s because the summer population of these East Coast locales consists largely of finance douches wearing Nantucket red shorts and their Lily Pulitzer clad wives and kids (most of whom are among the most obnoxious residents in my Fairfield County burb), but I cannot fathom the appeal of spending the summer, not to mention tons of money and aggravation, bumping into them left and right on a tiny, congested island or spit of land. During the summer months, my Facebook and Instagram feeds are filled with posts by local acquaintances vacationing on Nantucket, featuring pictures of fellow acquaintances eating dinner together, having cocktails together, hanging at the beach together, getting coffee together, and well, you get the point. But I certainly don’t.
Ferries are Fun
In addition to the bizarre reluctance to congregate with anyone outside of their usual social and/or professional network or venture beyond the comfort zone of a preppy East Coast environment, Nantucket (and Martha’s Vineyard) summer residents also need to make sure they book their ferry reservation months in advance of their planned travel dates. Horror stories abound in my town of families whose kids do not make it home for the first day of school in late August or early September, because the ferries are all booked. They are literally stranded “on island” as they say. Or, you have booked and paid for your overpriced yet still mildewed-smelling and miniscule rental cottage well in advance (as most rentals will require), but you forgot to book your ferry six months in advance, so your lodging sits empty for a few nights while you wake up at 4 am several days in a row hoping to get on a ferry stand-by.
If this sounds like your dream vacation, you are not alone. In fact, if you live anywhere along the I-95 corridor in the NY tristate area, you will be surrounded by hordes of your neighbors and others exactly like you. Just be sure to pack your patience along with your Lily Pulitzer, crab-embroidered pants and Nantucket reds.
For the finishing touch, definitely leave your $150 “Oversand Vehicle Permit” on your car (or, even better, multiple years’ worth stacked on top of each other), so everyone in town knows where you’ve been.