Post Pandemic PANIC

Holy hell! Anyone else find yourself wondering what it was like in the Before Times?

Did I really love the the Before Times life as much as I thought I did while experiencing a global pandemic with the rest of the world? I mean FUCK. Talk about seeing the world through rose colored glasses pre-Rona.

I was fortunate to be able to work from home most of 2020, returning to an office in January of 2021 part-time that did not enforce masks. In fact, almost 90% of employees chose not to wear them (which was like living an episode of the The Twilight Zone since the rest of the world was still on high Rona alert). As soon as I knew I would be returning to a maskless office this March, I made every effort possible to get the vaccine. Fortunately, I received it with Prissy in tow, my partner-in-crime turned stage five clinger due to endless months of quarantine together.

Fauci Ouchie received with my support system in tow.

I still wore my mask at all times in public and while at work. And then one afternoon, President Biden came out and leisurely announced that those of us who chose to be tracked by Bill Gates (I kid, I kid but how do people seriously believe that shit?) could carry on with life like in the Before Times.

WHAT THE WHAT?

Did I hear that correctly?!

Like, for realsies though?

After 14 months of following the Centers for Disease Control and my boyfriend, Tony Fauci’s advice, this announcement seemed like a miracle of sorts. A beacon of hope after a year of uncertainty and fear. But then, my anxiety kicked in. Do I still wear a mask at work? Or in public (I live in a state where leadership flagrantly downplayed Rona, costing lives)? What about if I’m around an unvaccinated person? The questions swirled like a tsunami in my noggin. What about people who were lying about being vaxxed…was it OK for me to be around them maskless? As a person with already severe anxiety, this should be fucking fabulous announcement sent my brain into overload.

On top of that, I was used to being able to skip makeup and any sort of regular beauty routine, hiding behind a mask, greasy hair in an up do and sunglasses 24/7. Major pandemic glamour.

I thought maybe we’d be easing back into the Before Times but instead (for those of us that took this shit seriously, wearing masks and caring about our neighbors and community continuously for 14 months) mask mandates were being ripped off as harshly as a band aid stuck to arm hair with no countdown.

I’m having a hard time recollecting what was so fabulous about leaving the house at 7am only to return at 7pm (after a commute, eight hour day of employment at a desk in a cube and post work yoga sesh), every week day. And, after working from home nearly a year, I absofuckinglutely DO NOT MISS getting up hours before arriving to my job to shower, (washing my hair on a regular basis is STILL a pre-Rona trait coming back at a snail’s pace), feeding my zoo (of six indoor pussies, four outdoor pussies, one high maintenance Pomeranian), taking the dog out, scooping cat shit, taking said shower, blow drying hair, putting in contacts, trying to remember how to apply makeup, making coffee, chugging down my vitamins, meds and supplements, attempting a quick breakfast (still a microwaved egg, slice of cheese on a piece of toast – my first meal of the day since college), not forgetting a fast packed lunch on the counter to rot the day away, and sitting in traffic all before getting to the office at 8am.

I do not miss any of that one bit. My work from home lewk was a greasy, casual, wait to shower until after my lunchtime workout, roll out of bed and take my time making my way to the computer anywhere I wanted in the Mini Manse unappealing, not easy on the eyes but easy on my mind routine I’d come to adore.

I chose to wear sunglasses and fancy headpieces.

Of course this news was fabulous. But I had to get my shit together overnight (like the rest of folks like me) and start giving fucks about my appearance again (I mean, I guess I don’t have to) once I was going to be recognizable in public without the lower half of my face covered. I had to remind myself what it was like wearing lipstick again, paint my face with at least tinted moisturizer so I didn’t constantly get asked “are you sick?” at work (I got serious dark circles gang), and work on not letting my facial expressions get out of control since again, they’d been covered up for the better part of 14 months.

Time to get this Bitch back in action.

Once I had my mind straight on the ground rules, being out in public and seeing others at the grocery, liquor store, post office, etc. without a mask made me want to put mine back on or ask them to stop breathing unless they were across the room from me. Turns out after talking to friends and fam, I’m not alone in the post Rona panic. It’s a discussion that comes up with peeps in my ‘bubble’ (those I know who took Rona with the same seriousness and are vaxxed or on their way there). Adjusting to the new (but really old) norm is gonna take some time for most of us.

BUT this also means hugs, kisses, seeing loved ones again, drinks at Dalts, leisurely trips to my mothership Target just for shits and giggles, no more maskne (zits caused by the cloth covering), and almost most importantly back to the Hair House to see my Elf on a Shelf who works hair wonders on my mane.

He does the hair. I provide the accessories.

So, if I have yet to see you in our new post pandemic world, the only reason you’ll need to panic is if I haven’t yet seen you. Prepare yourself for a major mauling by moi. In the meantime, I’m taking baby steps back into the maskless universe with the first stop being my pool. Surprise.

Adjusting to the new (but really old) norm is gonna take some time for most of us.

Be kind.

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

CBXB!

BUY ME A DRINK

Weekend VAXXED Winks

So if you weren’t aware, Dr. Anthony Fauci is my off-season Lee Corso. In other words, I’m cheating on my 85-year- old main squeeze with a younger 80-year-old side piece.

What can I say? I have a thing for 80 year olds who love my Hawkeyes and science.

When I was able to get my Fauci Ouchie to say I was ecstatic is an understatement. I went to a slick drive thru vaccination station and from start to finish it took 20 minutes (including the 15 minutes I had to wait afterward to ensure I wouldn’t spontaneously combust from a side effect). Naturally, I brought support with me.

Pretty sure ya girl is gonna be on a progressive candidate’s commercial at midterm time, as I was filmed getting vaxxed and cursed the useless Tennessee governor and celebrated the shot going in my arm like I’d just won a billion dollars. You know, my usual timid self.

Getting the Fauci Ouchie was cause for celebration much like everything else in my life. But there was a shift in how I felt – a combination of relief and what is that I see?….a light at the end of the Rona tunnel?! Getting vaxxed gave me a renewed lease on an almost post Rona (fingers crossed) life!

Hanging with an also fully vaxxed Mama CBXB.
Prissy is able to socialize (aka lunge for nachos) again at her fave local spot, Alley Pub that allows canines on the patio.

I’ve been more active outside now that the weather has turned to a gorgeous Tennessee spring.

Percy Warner park in all of its green glory.
This little beast can walk three miles (so, 30,000 steps for her) like it’s no biggie. I’m referring to the dog.

Last week started off in a tense manor, as most of the country prepared for the verdict in Derek Chauvin trial. You know, the sociopath cop who murdered George Floyd casually kneeing his neck for nine minutes filmed by a minor child last May.

I wanted to throw the fuck up when I heard the verdict was in on Tuesday.
Thank FUCK the jury held a murderer accountable for George Floyd. Art by Nikkolas Smith.

I stayed late at work to watch the verdict read live and updated the fam, who was also waiting nervously.

While this was a fucking gigantic relief, there is so much more work to be done in this country regarding racism and the blasé attitude so many white people have toward it. But holy fuck was this a needed victory.

After a collective sigh of relief, the rest of the week flew by. I’m back at the office full time now and boy, it was a hard transition after being able to roll out of bed, take care of the fur kids, make coffee and roll up to my home office desk all in 15 minutes time. Now, having to actually give a fuck about my appearance, put on real pants AND wash my hair regularly takes almost every ounce of energy in my being.

It’s such a foreign feeling to be around coworkers and have semblance to the Before Times. I miss working out over lunch with my fave trainer who also happens to have the name of Meghan Trainor (how purrfect?!). I got addicted to her free daily Instagram workouts during quarantine. So I jump on when I’m at work to say hi because I have major FOMO.

The back at the office routine has me extra ready for that TGIF cocktail and I spent Friday on a phone-a-thon with two of my fave peeps.

First up was Slappy (you know, my former co-worker who drunkenly slapped me at a work party when I told her I’d wait on her to go to the bathroom. I knew I loved her from that moment on) and her adorable fur kid, Roscoe.

Next up was Sister CBXB and we had no fun talking as you can see. What the fuck did we do before this technology?!

Saturday was quite luxurious for the pussies of the Mini Manse.

Rocky spent most of the day in my tub, awaiting me to bring him a meowmosa. All of the other Pussy Posse members lounged on the patio, delighted it’s back open for them 24/7 now that the weather is fab.

My Iowa twins had a glow party in their basement. I’m hoping the sticks are still lit when I get to see them next month.

Prepare for your mind to be blown when you gander below at how the twins have turned into actual mini adults. Time needs to stop for a sec, OK?

Sunday was a gorge day to spend outside, so of course I opted to day drink with my friend Aha! inside instead.

Cheers to being out and about with two-for-ones!

Speaking of my love of 80-year-olds, I saw a fucking dude roar in on a bike that looked like it was custom built for me.

The hair. The vest. The bike. The colors. Naturally, I need a pic with my newfound soulmate.

Can we all be this fucking cool at 82?!? Is the octogenarian age group the new 40-year-olds? I’m thinking YES.

Being out and about, I don’t even mind seeing what always annoys me to my core. One of these annoyances is when couples sit on the same fucking side of the table. I mean, can’t you just gaze at each other across the fucking table?

This has bothered me since Scooby and I saw a couple doing this at the Olive Garden my Junior homecoming.

Sunday is hair do day for Princess B and check out her new braids, compliments of Sister CBXB’s sure to be future arthritis’d hands.

I had every intention of heading home and popping some champs for Hollywood’s “golden” night watching The Oscars.

Stocking up on my new fave champs – Barefoot Brut Rosé Bubbles. Mask by Any Old Iron.

While I was gussying up, I poured myself a glass to primp before my own personal red carpet.

Then I made the mistake of sitting down on the couch and taking a two hour nap. So I skipped my own red carpet, and proceeded to watch the most boring Oscars of ALL TIME. Rocky couldn’t even cuddle to watch it was so lack luster.

So here we are at the start of another maybe closer-to-post-Rona-life week. Although I’m fully vaxxed, I continue to wear my mask in support of those who haven’t yet had a chance to get their shots and because I give fucks about other people. Wearing a piece of fabric over my face contributes to the mask culture and supports those around me. I hope you do the same for me and your neighbors.

Mask by Fringe and Co.

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

CBXB!

BUY ME A DRINK!