SaltWire E-Edition

Dreaming of a mask-free future

COLLEEN LANDRY phlandry@nbnet.nb.ca @SaltWireNetwork

I’ve been busy these days decorating my float for the End of COVID-19 parade I hope someone will organize.

OK, fine. According to the highly educated infectious disease specialists, COVID-19 isn’t actually over. However, with vaccinations ramping up and restrictions easing, it feels like we’re finally getting somewhere — and I might finally be going somewhere, like Ikea. A girl can dream.

Even if COVID-19 lingers, I can live with that. What I can’t live with much longer is wearing a mask. Read my lips (if only you could see them): the minute I get official word masks are no longer necessary, I plan to retire mine during a simple, yet meaningful, ceremony that involves grinding it to smithereens. Nothing fancy. Everyone welcome.

Don’t get me wrong. I know they help stop the spread of the virus and I know it’s a small sacrifice, but I also know the minute I put one on, I sneeze, my nose runs and my chin stubble gets irritated and itchy. I don’t know how people wear them all day long.

I’m one of the lucky ones. I work from home alone and I only wear my mask during Zoom staff meetings. None of my colleagues do this, but with the constant rule changes, I’m paralyzed with fear and confusion, so I err on the side of caution.

Beyond that, I haven’t heard a single enunciated word in more than a year. It’s all white noise and mumbling.

Every conversation ends with me practically in someone’s lap trying to decipher what they’re saying from behind their mask. I always find myself saying, “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

Recently, I tried to order coffee.

The barista asked, “What can I get you?”

I spoke as clearly as I could. “A latte, please.”

“Eyes?”

I replied with, “Um, hazel with gold flecks. Why?”

She shook her head. “No, what size?”

I laughed and said, “Oh! Sorry. Venti.”

She asked, “Name?” I answered, “Yes, please.” “Your name. What is your name?”

I answered, “Oh! Sorry. It’s Colleen.”

Ten minutes later, she announced, “Grande flat white for Jolene!”

My nerves.

Also, I can’t tell you how many times I still forget my mask. I get halfway to a store, stop dead in my tracks and pat myself down like I’m going through airport security.

I stand in the parking lot frantically digging through my purse for my coffeestained mask, which is always crumpled underneath purse debris. I pull on it and the elastic ricochets whatever was attached to it. I bend down to collect my strewn treasures — keys, 12 lip balms, a corkscrew and a half-eaten bag of peanut M&M’s — and stuff it all back inside.

If COVID-19 doesn’t get me, my skyrocketing blood pressure surely will.

I suppose one nice thing about masks is they hide my flaws and help me blend into the crowd. Even if anyone were to recognize me, they’d likely keep a wide berth and that’s fine because I have no time for small talk. I’m in and out in less than 15 minutes, freeing up the rest of the day to hone my charade skills and tame my facial hair.

Like the rest of the world, I’m tapped out and COVID19 weary. I’m sick of it all — the restrictions, the arrows, the masks and the complete and utter absence of grocery store food samples.

It may not officially be over, but I’m knee-deep in streamers, balloons and coronavirus-shaped pinatas. Who’s with me?

Colleen Landry is a high school writing teacher, author of humour book Miss Nackawic Meets Midlife and co-author of the Camelia Airheart children’s adventure series. She and her husband are empty nesters in Moncton, N.B. Their two grown sons have ditched them for wider horizons. She is filling the void with Netflix, dark chocolate and Cabernet Sauvignon.

Games

en-ca

2021-07-28T07:00:00.0000000Z

2021-07-28T07:00:00.0000000Z

https://saltwire.pressreader.com/article/281595243557148

SaltWire Network