Quit moaning. This is how it’s going to be.

Booked on a calculated whim, the trip to Paris set for mid-October looks more and more like a comic blunder, a fool’s pipe-dream, a rash impulse buy. (The flight was so cheap, I practically had to get it.) The whole idea shrivels before my eyes as the pandemic spreads with no end in sight. Covid cases explode, fatalities rise, economies crater and global cities are in enforced lockdown — a fall Paris sojourn is, I am certain, très peu probable.

So the trip is pretty much DOA, as I suspected in a previous post, and we’ll be homebound for more months than ever imagined and stir-craziness is its own pandemic and who cares? People are dying and I could be next and I’m moping about not getting to dine on Michelin-star cuisine and missing the Christo show at the Centre Pompidou and forgoing the serial heart attacks Parisian women unfailingly give me.

There is so much more to mope about, of course, and I am an Olympian moper. Give me a large pimple, computer glitches, long hold times, an exorbitant phone bill, cruddy customer service, a mean paper cut and you will see sulking in all its ravishing splendor. It’s like out of a Bergman film.  

Now is not the time to complain and temperamentally crumble, but it seems like our entrenched culture of complaint is in full grousing, shouting swing. Everybody’s bitching about something: quarantines, Trump, lack of this and that, government overreach, face masks, being barred from the nachos plate at Chili’s. It’s a big boo-hoo carnival. I refuse to partake.

How? By keeping my über-fluffy head on straight (no haircuts! Mope!), not sweating the small stuff (I’m working on it), doing my best to ignore the White House, and trying not to weep myself to sleep about the surely dashed Paris trip.

Whining about so much picayune stuff is a luxury these days. (Paris is itself a luxury, the very definition of an obscene luxury, so buck up, crybaby.) There’s sure to be much more about which to complain, cry and caterwaul, and few of us will go untouched. As the more trusted experts are saying, this is going to get exponentially worse. So snap on your face mask, hang tight, and shush.  

It’s time to recalibrate and sacrifice. To adjust expectations and know that we’re pretty screwed. In this bonkers new world, it’s time to realize we can’t always get what we want. And we won’t.

Paris? Ha.

Yeah. I don’t think so.

10 thoughts on “Quit moaning. This is how it’s going to be.

  1. “Paris is itself a luxury, the very definition of an obscene luxury, so buck up, crybaby.”

    Naaaw,, it’s not. Paris is just a big, cold city in northern France with a couple sightseeing highlights. Nothing special. When I start in the morning in Hamburg/Deutschland I’ll be there in the evening, when I drive fast, or the next day since I prefer to drive slowly. Lots of buttfugly suburbs, northern African muslims, high unemployment rates, poor, angry people. And nobody speaks English, or only their very own version of it. Nothing luxurious, nothing magic.
    Definately not a dream destination. 😦
    When you wanna experience a bit of the French charme, see to it to escape Paris asap and make your way to the atlantic coast. Dreamy little seaside towns with unpronouncable names, luxurious beaches, light woodland, V-Day museums n stuff. That is much nicer than the big city with all its problems.

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  2. I totally appreciate all you’re saying, but, after five visits there, i know how much I love Paris. I’ve done the south of France and Lyon and both are dreamy, too. Have yet to do the Atlantic Coast! But I will!


  3. I love Paris too but Paris will always be there. It’s okay to be disappointed. It’s probably more about having something to look forward to, especially in these difficult times. We need to see a light at the end of the tunnel, and the city of lights is pretty fully on the nose. Maybe you can give yourself some small, uplifting gifts instead. I’m finding small joys in receiving packages in the mail. Can you order in some macarons? French wine? French music? It’s also pretty uplifting to send a little joy to someone else. Even just funny random things in your own home, wrap it up beautifully, send it with no context, it’s a crazy white elephant style thing to foist on someone, and encourage that person to “pay it forward’ with a random regift from their own home. I’ve sent old party supplies, Japanese kit kats, and costume accessories to my sisters. I’ve sent records and lipsticks to myself. Whatever you’re doing, it’s not moping, it’s coping. This shit IS hard and even if someone has it harder, that doesn’t take away from your own experience and everyone deserves some venting time.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Jay, You’re right, it’s definitely more about having something to look forward to. I’ve done Paris lots, and it can wait. I love your idea about giving gifts to yourself. I have been ordering more stuff for me than ever before, and, small consolation that it is, it’s something. But your suggestion of giving gifts to others is sublime, and sublimely creative. Thanks for such a thoughtful reply. I hope readers get as much out of it as I have.


  5. I do miss travelling (though not to Paris as you might see from my post today), but it’s just not worth doing right now. My mother actually suggested to me today that I should come home for a visit now, “while nothing is crowded.” Unbelievable. But then she’s a Trumper who thinks we’re all taking this much too seriously, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

    I am currently doing a London map jigsaw puzzle, which has revealed to me so many places I didn’t know existed, despite living here for a dozen years. When things have improved enough to at least be able to take public transport for non-essential reasons, I have some serious exploring of my own city to look forward to!

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