an impending splinter

For the most part, I have used this blog to pine about versions of myself shedded off as I navigate my path through the world.

This morning, I’m using it to long for a missing me that hasn’t yet left: my man of leisure, my retired homebody.

You see, this pandemic has brought a huge relief/break to my normally hectic spring. My job involves a severe production peak in the spring. Additionally, I’m responsible for an early department that peaks in late fall. This season, I was set to be the employee with the longer period of overtime in the entire plant. I’m also a 53 year old cancer survivor with one artificial hip and one grumpy original one.

The stress of spring ramp-up was compounded by the stress of COVID in a cramped, fully staffed production space. On March 18, I caved to the stress and asked for my options regarding a leave of absence. I am high-risk and my company was amazingly accommodating and I set my last day of work as Friday, March 20.

Of course, the combined mayors of the Kansas City metro declared a shutdown starting March 24, so I only missed one work day.

We reopen this coming Monday, and I find this week filled with sadness and I am regularly stuck in a great pause. I am incredibly fortunate. Between accumulated time off, savings from the start of my overtime period, employer relief pay, our tax refund, stimulus, and one single unemployment claim, our household income remains nearly normal.

There have not been many moments in my life where I saw the obvious benefits of the privilege that I was born into (being openly or obviously gay counteracts some opportunities). There has been hard work, hard choices, and sacrifices made to get the two of us to this spot, but there have been generous gifts, too. I am still a bit numb that this shutdown has been as easy for us as it has.

We have paid our comfort forward when and wherever possible, I’ve sewn a handful of masks for ourselves and others. I’ve offered my time and equipment for socially distant projects. Venmo’d, bought gift certificates to support local business, and continually considered ways to pay things forward…

But, mostly, I’ve gardened. Boy, oh boy, have I gardened. I have expanded three beds, made three new ones. Sowed every seed I could fit in the ground. I have moved flowers to less favorable locations to maximize food production. I want to have to give away produce to neighbors and friends this summer.

I spent our stimulus on materials to finish our fence, to ensure we don’t create an accessible attractive nuisance. And create security for our private outdoor spaces. The bulk of materials will likely show up after I return to work, making the installation that much slower and exhausting.

So, here I sit already mourning my retired homebody, even as it is exactly who I currently am. I dread returning to my always-exhausted over-compensating worker bee now that I have tasted the joy of a calm enjoyable pace of life. I am angry that the gods of capitalism got so self-absorbed that they broke the system enough to give me a good long taste of something I’ll never afford to have: retirement. Now, it is nearly everything I think of. Next week I’ll drag myself back to the endless production, to the lower-than-others compensation for my endless over-achievement. I will return to being incredibly productive for the machine of others’ profits.

But for now, for a bit longer, I will attempt to spend my weekend in the garden, sitting with my calm, slowed, retired self as the building chaos of reopening the world prepares to rend him from me and cast him into the entanglement that is the mess of my lost quantum selves…