Smile-breaks
About those masks
How's yours? They say wash it after every wearing and the best way is to toss it in the laundry. Huh? Who does laundry every day—unless you have four kids and do a separate laundry for each one? Like, youngest's clothes on Monday; middle child's Tuesday; other middle child's Wednesday; eldest child's Thursday; significant other's on Friday; yours truly on Saturday and Sunday's free for god, who doesn't have any clothes for you to wash and doesn't need a mask. So there you are!
That's silly, of course. Besides, what if you wear your mask more than once a day? Which leads us to the mass market in masks that's probably becoming the most profitable segment of the economy in this ******* pandemic. Those asterisks don't stand for any particular words, by the way. In case you were wondering.
Maybe you're clever and have been making your own masks. Good for you! Me, I've defaulted to Amazon. My daughter brought home a few masks from work that were fine but not so fashionable and, as you know, mask fashion is in. Have you seen those politicians with designer masks tossed around their necks—some with the very same color and pattern of their clothes?
Bet you never thought you'd be wearing a mask in August, with Halloween two months away. Life changes. We even have mask police, which some people aren't happy about and others are glad they're there. Who thought masks would be controversial?
But I won't get into that. I just dutifully put on my mask of choice as I pull up to the drive-through window to claim tonight's dinner and try not to touch it—the mask—even though it's creeping up into my eye on one side. My right eye. Left side's fine.
At home, I look in the mirror. Ah! No wonder! Right ear's just a tiny bit higher than the left ear. I thought ears came evenly placed on either side of your head. Maybe yours do. Mine don't. So that presents a problem because rule number one on masks is "Don't touch the outside of your mask as it will contaminate you and you will fall ill with Covid-19."
I'm talking to you—from six feet away, of course—and my mask is approaching my eye but I can't touch the outside of the mask and now the chin part is creeping up, too. I gingerly pinch the seam of the mask and shove it down; then I pull the bottom part back down over my chin.
So now I've broken the rule. I tried adjusting the mask from the inside—you know, poking my finger up beneath the bottom of the mask and trying to pull the top down. Awkward!!!
Oh shoot! It's a mess! I was going to talk about all the delightful mask choices—the macho "Don't mess with me" solid black masks and the fluffy floral masks and the plain white "I'm serious about this thing"—and here I am discussing the logistics. I bought Paul a KISS mask which you know he loves. He now sports four weird rock musicians looking out from his nose, lips and chin.
And then there's the breathing and talking thing. If you're soft-spoken like me, you have to holler to make yourself heard and more importantly, understood, which, well, let's just say it requires super powers. Breathing seems to be covered—no pun intended—as most masks allow for that.
Getting back to washing. . . After wearing it, I dump my mask in a sinkful of warm, soapy water for five minutes, then rinse it and hang it up to dry. My favorite mask—because it's most comfortable and is kind'a pretty—dries really quickly.
So that's about it for masks. Good luck with yours!
