I know the date but I don’t know what time it is. It’s May 1, the anniversary of my mother’s death in 1986. I always know when May 1 is. It’s a bittersweet day, sad but with the promise of spring. But I don’t know the time because I’ve taken off my Apple Watch. I’ve been wearing it every day for more than three years and decided that in May, I can exist without knowing the precise time, the weather, the wind speed, the stock market index, my heart beat, a reminder to take a deep breath – and all before I even get out of bed.
I’m taking poetic license here because my laptop gives me the time, so I can either get a piece of masking tape and hide the clock, or just ignore it as best I can. In the bubble we are living in, we don’t need to know exactly what time it is – Savannah tells me when it’s time to go out, we know if we are hungry, if I see the mail truck, I know the mail’s arrived, but time has become so fluid that I’m sure I’ll get used to being without a watch for the month of May at least.
We are all getting used to a new normal – I’m using a new flavor of mouthwash as my regular brand is out of stock. Now that will take some adjustment.