A graduation… like no other.
A school year… like no other.
A walk down the street… like no other.
A dental floss… like no other.
I mean, come on, lazy journalists! Isn’t it time for a different phrase to describe out current state of ambiguity? Sure, maybe we haven’t experienced these things in exactly the same way before but certainly by now, after all these months, we can stop saying this phrase as if we had never had a concert rescheduled to the internet, or classes being taught by zoom, or shops closed down, or whatever.
We are becoming experienced in the ways of the deadly Covid-19, and so many of the messes we continue to experience should NO LONGER BE A SURPRISE. We are running out of things we can truly say haven’t happened before. Quite recently.
So the phrase is becoming almost as annoying as the drum music I’ve been forced to listen to for days on TD Meloche Monnex’s insurance site while I try to cancel a policy I no longer need. Days. I am not exaggerating. I have the bing-bang-da bing-bang stuck in my head so completely I will be forced to play Patsy Cline tunes to push it out. Or maybe some John Denver.
Even the phrase Covid-19 is wearing thin. I know, I know, it is the NAME for the thing, and to be precise, one should use it, but couldn’t we shorten things a bit now? Call it Cody, or Vid, or George or Sid. Anything. (Sorry, it seems a male entity for some reason – how very gender-inappropriate of me!) Or Nancy, or Mavis, or Ophelia? We might listen better with a different sound to grab our attention?
Ah, it’s Covid fatigue speaking. It’s so BORING being encapsulated still, after all these months. Grocery shopping in my new town is simply exhausting – trying to learn the proper pathways around the store, trying not to have to double back, lest I collapse in exhaustion. I can feel the glares of the afraid at my back when I step into the wrong aisle, sense the anxiety of everyone around me as we do the distancing dance. Similar to a square dance…like no other.
Like everyone else, I want to go see a movie, eat in a restaurant without feeling like I am sharing spit with the devil, laugh with other people without worrying about how moist my laugh is (or theirs are). But I know it isn’t time yet. We have to hunker down for a bit longer, probably til spring, until the flu season…like no other… is done with for another year.
Argh. Where are my socially acceptable dancing shoes? I’ll have to dance alone in my apartment, but at least I can still dance… Maybe the music will finally block out the TD hold song….