Stir crazy

I don't think I've ever enjoyed weeding my garden as much as I have during these past few days.

I mean, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, where restaurants are offering take-out only, where social distancing puts an unusual arm's length (or more) between you and your closest friends, where once teeming cities – and the entertainment options they once offered – are now ghost towns, and where mostly being shuttered inside is the new normal, weeding the garden is a nice distraction and no longer a chore.

Especially when the sun is out and the temperatures are spring-like, which is a good thing for Spring.

It's good to get outside and breathe the fresh air.

It's an escape.

In my case, I have to take an extra precaution or two. I'm still just a few weeks out from two major surgeries since last September, and lifting 25-pound bags of mulch or weed and feed are not good ideas for me just yet. Fortunately, Kim has stepped in and does the heavy lifting. You should see her biceps.

But mostly, I'm inside. I watch even more television, if that's possible. But now, instead of live sports, I'm watching movies on HBO or TCM. Most of them are obscure. Many, on TCM, are in black and white.

I'm having a hard time watching replays of sports championships. I know who's going to win. It seems kind of pointless.

Sometimes I surf the Internet and try not to get into arguments on Facebook. This is not a time for arguing, I reckon.

All of this is a by-product of cabin fever, I guess.

I usually try and allot myself a couple hours every day to read. I always have. Reading takes my mind to places where other modes of transportation cannot. But even the library is now a take-out service. I can't peruse the shelves of books, which is part of the total library experience for me. I like when a book jumps off the shelf at me and shouts, "Read me. Read me."

The good thing about weeding – which I limit to just an hour or two per day – is that there's so much of it to do. And the weeds keep coming back, so there's stuff to do for, well, perpetuity.

 It's time for coping.

And wash your hands.