It’s hard to believe that the year 2020 is almost over, but all hot farts have to come to an end sometime. This year’s high lowlight reel includes raging bushfires, worldwide pandemics, racial tensions, countrywide protests, the death of several icons, back-to-back hurricanes, presidential impeachment, murder hornets, Saharan dust storms, a N.C. earthquake and an extremely divisive election.
Seriously, the only winners of 2020 were the two astronauts who managed to escape planet Earth and go on mid-year spacecation. But do all clouds have a silver lining? Short answer: yes. For every pile of garbage, there’s always a cute trash panda waiting in the wings. As difficult as it’s been, this year has taught me some valuable lessons that I’m not sure I would have learned otherwise. Here are my top ten revelations of 2020.
Those meetings could have been emails, after all.
Remember all the times you were asked to be in a conference room at the butt crack of dawn, and after an hour you were 25 munchkins deep into a completely unnecessary face-to-face that could have EASILY been translated into an email? Just as we suspected, 11/10 of those in-person meetings could have been avoided by a tiny little thing called a *pandemic.* If things ever do get back to normal, I’m hoping that most in-office interactions can be kept to a minimum. Video conferencing is our friend now, and Janet JUST figured out how to unmute her microphone and aim her camera somewhere other than the ceiling fan. Don’t let that knowledge go to waste.
Social distancing is kind of my jam.
I’m not saying that staying away from friends and family is ideal, but social distancing isn’t always bad. Hear me (an introvert) out. Strangers no longer get all up in my business in the grocery line when I’m trying to pay. I don’t have to sit 2-feet away from a family of six when I go out for date night. Almost all of my work can be done from the privacy of my own home. I always have a good excuse to avoid awkward get-togethers, and I haven’t been invited to a Pampered Chef or a Thirty-One party since 2019.
Teachers are priceless.
I have two kids in the public school system. Because my patience is shorter than the green lights in Holly Springs, this virtual school business has got me seriously contemplating the benefits of kidnapping a teacher for some sweet one-on-one instruction. Just kidding, I would never actually do that. Unless they’re willing. If I could score a certified teacher, I would literally throw money at them and make all of their wildest dreams come true. I’ll throw in a wine subscription for good measure. Think about it.
Masks have some serious benefits.
The obvious benefit of wearing a mask in public is not catching the ‘vid, but that’s not the only thing to get excited about. With a face covering, no one needs to know you’ve developed serious maskne, you can use it as a fashion accessory, and it’s a big help when the dump is smelling extra ripe. When paired with sunglasses, you are basically 100% incognito, and you don’t have to worry about ducking down the canned foods aisle to avoid the lacrosse mom from down the street.
Clorox wipes are a form of currency.
After people realized that they weren’t in danger of pooping their pants upwards of 20 times a day due to a pandemic, toilet paper returned to the shelves. Unfortunately, clorox wipes did not. Spotting clorox wipes on the shelves these days is the equivalent to encountering a chupacabra in the wild or an empty check out line in Walmart. When you do find them, you’re almost always limited to two per customer, so stick a mustache on your baby, and hand them a credit card. IMPROVISE. ADAPT. OVERCOME.
We’re all thicc now.
I don’t mean to be dramatic, but I’m back on keto for the 10th time this month, because 2020 was the year I became the lord of the onion rings. Carbs are what got me through 2020, but my winter bod started back in June. Since then it’s just spiraled out of control. With the exception of those people doing push-ups next to Aviator and taking ice baths outside of CrossFit, I think we’ve all picked up a pound or 20. It’s okay, emotional eating is a thing, and this year has been tough on all of us.
This is a judgement free zone.
Since most of us are working from home, getting dressed is optional, and it’s totally acceptable to work in sweats and pajama pants all day. Oh, you’ve got a video conference call? No biggie, dress to impress from the waist up! Ordering out every night is now considered “supporting local businesses,” drinking starts at whenever you need it, and no one is going to judge you for having one-ply toilet paper. This is Satan’s year, and we’re all doing the best we can.
The importance of hygiene.
Remember when we didn’t carry around hand sanitizer 24/7, and stores didn’t bother disinfecting their grocery carts? Or when we washed our hands, but we didn’t bother counting to twenty? Those days are gone, and that’s probably a good thing. 2020 has made us all germaphobes more aware of health and hygiene, which may help prevent a really rough cold and flu season. Saying that, I am looking forward to the time when I no longer have to apologize for choking on my own spit in public.
The house is never big enough.
Everyone’s house was “big enough” before the kids were homeschooled, and the parents were working from home. Before we were all locked down with a stay-at-home order. Before we started eating everything in sight. I don’t care if your house is 1,500 or 4,500 sq. feet, no space is big enough after you accidentally walk into the background of your family member’s Zoom call looking like a swamp creature.
We’re all in this together.
You know what they say — misery loves company. If you’ve been struggling with depression or anxiety, you’re not alone. According to the American Psychological Association, nearly half of Americans have sought some sort of mental health treatment this year. 2020 has been rough, but at least it’s helping to diminish the stigma surrounding mental health care. But hey, we’ve almost made it! Soon waste management will come to collect 2020 and throw it in the dumpster fire where it belongs. I’m not sure what kind of fresh hell 2021 will bring, but after the gutter ball we just had, it’s nothing we can’t handle. I think we can all agree to end this year with the words of Clark W. Griswold— “Hallelujah! Holy ****! Where’s the Tylenol?”
We’re fat, we’re fierce, and we’re soon to be free. Happy freakin’ New Year.
