Where Did All the Extra Time Go?

We have shortened the hours at the restaurant to dinner service only on Friday and Saturday nights. No more lunches, and no longer opening on Wednesdays and Thursdays. We have added Take & Bake, a much simpler undertaking. Theoretically, with the reduction in the hours, I should have much more free time. Where is it?

I am working out more. It turns out that last year’s insomniac impulse purchase of the Mirror was a good decision. I am taking all sorts of classes, including Zumba, stretch, weightlifting and boxing, yoga, and Pilates. I change into and out of sweaty clothes twice daily and use towels to sop up the sweat that blinds my eyes and drips on the floor. My laundry basket is always full of my workout clothes, tablecloths, napkins from the restaurant, and of course, Daniel’s greasy cooking clothes. Laundry is becoming a career.

Last week, Daniel decided to join me on my monthly Costco excursion. Although his company is usually welcome, I knew his participation would crimp my quick in and out system. After a thorough search of the store, it was not a surprise he needed several items that Costco doesn’t carry. He had already researched and located some specialty Asian markets we needed to check out. Three stores later, as my impatience grew, we headed home.

On the way home, he suggested that since we were already on the road, we could go to Walla Walla to check out some of the stores there. Maybe we can score some of the more esoteric ingredients he needed from some specialty shops. A few hours later, driving through fog and ice, we had found only two of the ten things on the list. It was now late, stores were closing, and we conceded it would take another trip to Walla Walla the next day to look for the missing ingredients. Another day and a few more hours of my new “free time” gone.

At 3:00 a.m. on Friday, I woke up a little congested, sneezed, and panicked that I had COVID-19. I was okay about an hour later, my panic subsided, and all was good. Saturday evening, I started to feel a little congested again, sneezed some more, and my eyes were getting watery. Sunday morning, I headed down to Providence for a COVID test. I drove to Walla Walla through the heavy fog, fearing the worst. If I were to test positive, I’d need to alert our Saturday customers that they had been exposed. Now I was panicked!

When I checked into the testing site at Urgent Care, I was told it would be a two to three-hour wait. As it turned out, it was only an hour’s wait, and I was never so happy to have a Q-tip stuck up my nose. More of my newly found spare time was gone; this time, I knew I didn’t have a choice.

Mother Nature was also on my side because when I drove home, the fog lifted, and it was a breeze. I resigned myself to quarantine and made a mental list of what I would accomplish during my home imprisonment, mostly laundry and reorganizing the linen closet.

I was told test results would take between 24-48 hours. However, the result came in earlier, and thankfully, it was negative. A big sigh of relief, and I mentally ripped up the list. The linen closet will just have to wait for a snow day.