Evolution of viruses and the susceptibility of the human body to the same has given us lemons. Kind of sour. But, that’s what we are stuck with. So, here are some ideas on how to make lemonade. Things you never had “time” for. Before the virus slowed us all down.
1.Plant a victory garden. If you have the room, plant your vegetables. If you never planted vegetables it is not hard to do. You can find all kinds of information about soil and weather and pests and watering and all that stuff on line. Or. You can throw some seeds in some halfway decent soil and get pretty much the same results. Plants are tough. Notice how those cracks in your sidewalk get quickly filled with green growing things?
If you are lucky enough to have land, dig it up. All you need is a couple inches of topsoil. Potatoes will grown anywhere. I have grown them in straw. Radishes are easy and fast. Nothing like a fresh radish plopped into your salad. Lettuce. Pole beans (got a fence?). Peas. Carrots (need good loamy soil for those) . All easily grown from seed . And seeds last for years, no matter what the packing date says on the package.
If you don’t have a lot of land, hell, dig up some lawn. A nice little victory garden will keep you busy a few hours a week and reap some tasty rewards.
2. Bills. Bills. Bills. How many years have you been promising yourself to organize those bills. Find the folders of old papers and revenue sheets. Pile em on the kitchen table . And sort. Now, what do you really need? Time to throw out the receipt from the microwave you bought in 2009. How many old automobile insurance proofs do you need? Those 1999 bank statements are useless, everything is on line now. Tax returns? Do you really think the IRS is going to audit you for the $33.46 you claimed for your mother-in-law’s soft toilet seat ? What about the IRA and pension statements. A waste of space. Now is the time to sweep out the paperwork. Join the e-age.
3. OK, set aside two days and let’s look into your closet. Begin with the two hole on the underwear rule. Any underwear with more than two holes ( I am not talking about your waist and legs) goes into the bin. Are you somehow emotionally attached to those thread bare heels in half of your socks? Dump ’em. And really, how many sweatshirts can you wear at once? Two is plenty. Now, about those shirts. The flowery ones. It’s not 1973 any longer. And the turtle necks? Send them Moscow Mitch. Well, if you really want to feel bad, try on ALL those pants you’ve been saving. Notice how 90% of them have shrunk in the waist over the past 8 years. I guess they don’t make em like they used to! Oh, you are waiting until you diet kicks in and you can wear them again? Note to self: Buy the Brooklyn Bridge.
4. Collections. Somewhere in the attic or garage or at the bottom of a closet is one of your prized collections. Dust it off. Peruse it. Enjoy it. I have an old coin collection I started in 1959. With one folder for pennies. Over the years I have added nickels, dimes and quarters. Time to catch up with all those years of blank holes to be filled. Maybe you have stamps. Old newspaper clippings. Photographs. Toys. National Geographics. Snails. Stones. Whatever. Time to sit down, handle the merchandise and enjoy it. Who knows, you might be re-inspired to take up the hobby again.
5. Reading. All those unread books on the shelf. Or the half read ones. The classics that you always wanted to read. Ulysses (I got through 20 pages and was so confused I gave up). How about a really great translation of the Iliad or Odyssey (I recommend Fagles, it’s pure poetry). The Federalist Papers. Or maybe some light science fiction. Any MAD magazines collecting dust? Escape fiction. Serious non-fiction. You have been saying you haven’t the time. Well, now’s your chance.
6. Baking. Cooking. All of a sudden I smell fresh bread in the house. And chocolate chip cookies. And new recipes. Spicy Indian food. Chinese stir frys in the wok. Homemade pizza. Rediscover what it was like before you got addicted to convenience foods. Stews. Stroganoffs. Potato pancakes. Never had time before. Now, no rush.
6. Quiet. Just quiet. Meditation if you want to call it that. A little yoga. Make up your own moves. A little chanting. OOOOOMMMMMM…OOOOOMMMMMM. Try not to rile up the dogs. Or the spouse. Just 10 minutes of quiet time. Every day. Just for you. You’ve got the time.
The virus has given us lemons. Make lemonade. Add sugar. Sweeten to taste.
The Old Liberal 