It’s finally feeling like Autumn, with cooler temperatures, gorgeous foliage and pumpkins galore. There’s something about Autumn that makes me want to “hunker” down” in my warm house, cooking substantial meals and making sure my cupboards are well-stocked with supplies. But this year, I have to admit my urge to stock up has gotten just a teeny bit out of hand.
I’ve never understood what motivates hoarders. My theory has always been, “why have two of something when one will do?” But then the pandemic hit, and in the early stages that sometimes meant empty grocery shelves, making it hard to find basic necessities. And although I can almost always find what I need these days, those memories seem to have stuck with me. Because now I find myself wanting to stock up supplies like a frantic squirrel storing nuts in anticipation of a really, really, bad Winter.
My usual minimalist tendencies have disappeared. Now I wander the aisles of the grocery store, tossing things into my cart whether I need them or not. My kitchen cupboards are full, and so is the cabinet in the basement I use to store extra groceries and paper goods. I have a small bin full of cleaning supplies, disinfectants and face masks. And yet sometimes I still wonder, “do I have enough?”
The problem with always wanting more is that nothing ever seems to be enough, and that’s a horrible way to live. I know that my desire to keep adding to my stash is a reaction to the uncertainty of the times we’re living in, but I hate feeling that I’m somehow dropping the ball if I don’t have enough supplies in my house to see me through at least 2022. It’s time for me to stop the madness.
It’s true that no one knows when, or how, this pandemic will end. It’s also true that there may still be shortages, and I can’t always count on running to the grocery store to pick up something I need. But I think I’ve gotten to the point where I’d rather risk doing without something for a little while, because that’s preferable to constantly worrying about whether I have “enough.” And I think I’d rather trust that friends and family would step forward to share what they have if necessary, just as I would gladly share my supplies with anyone who needed them. And I know this is true, because they have shared, and so have I.
Sometimes it’s just a matter of choosing how I want to live. Do I want to live in an “everyone for himself” world, or do I want to keep a little faith in the people around me? Do I want to be a person who compulsively buys things out of fear of the future, or do I want to once again be happy with a reasonable amount of supplies in my house?
This pandemic has changed many things in my life, and in many cases there’s just not much I can do about it. But I’ve decided that it is a not going to turn me into a hoarder, and that’s something I can control.
When I was a freshman in college, I became good friends with a young woman who was a Christian Scientist. We would spend hours talking to each other about anything and everything, including religion. She once told me that she had never felt so free to discuss her religious beliefs with anyone before, and I felt exactly the same way. Which may seem a bit odd, because I’m not a Christian Scientist.
It’s so easy to misunderstand each other, especially when we’re preoccupied or upset, and to be disappointed when others aren’t responding to us the way we want them to respond. And those are the times when I’m grateful for the lessons that the shelter dogs have taught me, which is that I need to be very intentional about what kind of message I’m sending out, either with or without my words. Because I’ve found that once others understand what I really mean, their response is often just exactly what I need.
And miracle of miracles, it all worked out. The house had a gorgeous view of the lake and plenty of room for everyone, and the weather was great. We found time to relax and unwind, while some of us golfed, fished, visited a nearby winery, made crafts, went horseback riding, played games, or went for walks in the woods. The lake was warm enough to try the paddle boards and I even managed to go kayaking without falling into the water (another miracle).
I’ve never wasted much time on making wishes. Even at my childhood birthday parties, when it was time to make a wish before blowing out the candles on my cake, I usually couldn’t think of anything to wish for. (Especially after the year I wished for my very own pony and discovered that what you wish for and what you get are often two very different things.) But maybe it’s because I’ve gotten older, or maybe it’s the strange and often unpleasant times we’re living in, but these days, I actually do have things I wish for. A whole list of them, as a matter of fact.
So all I can do is try to adapt to this new normal which is chock-full of strange new things. When I invited some friends over for a happy hour recently and the rain prevented us from gathering on my patio, I set up chairs and small tables in the garage instead. I figured out how to navigate Facebook’s new format, and even discovered that they hadn’t done away with “Messenger” as I had initially feared. (Although they did make it hard to find.) I keep a stash of face masks in my car and hand sanitizer in my purse at all times. And now I’m blogging in a completely new format, even though I was perfectly happy with the old one. 
We quickly moved our table as far back from the street as it would go, thinking that would protect us. And it did, for a while. But soon the street in front of the restaurant was covered in water that was also lapping up against the curb. Our waitress asked if we’d like to move inside, but we told her we were fine. (We’re not eating inside restaurants right now.) By the time she came back with our food, the water was beginning to cover the sidewalk as well. Every once in a while a car would venture down the flooded street, creating waves that did reach our table, so we learned to lift our feet whenever we saw one coming.
