I have been very fortunate to have been able to work in the comfort and safety of home since even before the corona virus quarantine declaration. Sharing the space with my wife and two dogs, I recognize that my exposure to the virus is dramatically less than that of the front-line, essential workers. There are other life threatening hazards, such as greeting my wife in the morning before she is fully awake. This is one instance where social distancing has served me well.
The only problem with working from home is that the office is always open and only a few steps from any room in the house. Factor in that most of my customers are in the same position, there is no such thing as a 40-hour work week anymore. Since the quarantine began almost 5 months ago, I have been averaging close to twice the standard. Having a start-up company that is till in the sapling stage, I recognize that we are in a critical stage of development. Our ability to survive in this uncertain climate is based upon our growth. That responsibility falls solely on my shoulders.
I have heard people who have left the industry state that they were burned out. I have always looked at this as a convenient excuse. I have never seen anyone walking around like a zombie with smoke rising from their scorched head. Toughen up. It is just work. How hard can it be working in an air-conditioned office, sitting on your butt all day responding to email and talking on the phone?
Well I just learned. Over the last couple of weeks, I have noticed that it has been more difficult to maintain focus. Tasks that only a month ago were virtually autonomous for me required a concentrated effort to complete. My willingness to accept the routine, unreasonable deadline had faded. Why was it so hard to keep pushing after 10 pm? What happened to my willingness to go the extra mile? Why in fact did I feel like a character from “Night of the Living Dead”? So much for convenient excuses.
We were fortunate that in the winter we booked a three-night stay at our favorite bed and breakfast for last week. Located on a dead-end road in a long-abandoned fishing village on the Eastern shore of Maryland, this has been our place of refuge. It is a place that is a remnant of a simpler time. My wife and I joke that it is a place about nothing. That moniker does not give this place, so near to our hearts, credit. It is in fact, much more than that.
If you are willing to slow down, take the time to look and listen, the beauty of this place will reveal itself. The room in which we have stayed for all but one visit has a porch that overlooks the marsh, gardens, and river. From our front row seats, we were able to watch the latest presentation from mother nature. A hummingbird played its aerial version of hopscotch, jumping from flower to flower, pausing seemingly motionless to sip the nectar. A pair of ospreys were raising two fledglings in a nest built in an old channel marker. With every puff of wind, they would test their wings, alighting into the air but not quite leaving the confines of the nest. It was like watching a couple of teenagers getting ready to sneak out of the house when mom and dad are away. One night we were treated to an electrical storm that rivaled even the best fireworks display we have even seen. Veins of cobalt blue and silver arced across the sky and were reflected in the river. Strangely, the fury in the sky was calming. It seemed that mother nature was also in need of relieving some stress.
If not for Cindy, the innkeeper, this bed and breakfast would not be much more than a hotel with very little to do. However, Cindy has made a visit to the hotel feel like a trip to Grandma’s house. It is immediately comfortable and familiar. It is a place where you can let your guard down. Just like Grandma’s house, you are never judged. Rather than excuse ourselves from the breakfast table and head out of town to the nearby attractions, we always find ourselves talking up to lunch. Conversations about family and the latest developments in our lives always pick up right where we left off, almost as if our last visit were yesterday. Cindy has become a lifelong friend.
When our brief visit was over and it was time to return home, we got that familiar sense of longing about our departure. Part of us desperately wanted to stay in our place of sanctuary. Even though we knew that COVID was still lurking out there, much of the stress that had gripped my mind prior to the visit had released. Unfortunately, the return trip up Interstate 95 tested my refreshed state of mind. It only took a couple of unenlightened drivers to ruin my heightened state of being. No sooner did I get home that I had to mix my favorite cocktail, a Corpse Reviver #2. Hopefully not a sign of things to come.
It is impossible to totally free ourselves of the stress that COVID has inserted into our lives. Even if you are able to shield yourself from the continuous barrage of bad news raining down from the media, you still cannot stop worrying about the immediate threats to your loved ones, friends, and job. For a few short days, we were able to get some shore leave. We had time to reconnect with friends and resync with nature. From the confines of my home office, it has been difficult to maintain any sense of continuity. It was reassuring to know that our friends are safe, and that the world is still turning.
