Coordinating with Your Mask
It’s time to discuss mask etiquette now that we’re all wearing them. And we are all wearing them, right? If not, you’re as out of style as a leisure suit. What’s more, you’re a threat to yourself and mankind.
That said, I’ve assessed my mask situation. I started with a couple of floral items made by my neighbor, Martha, using flannel with an inner lining of quilt fabric. But I’ve added to my collection. I ordered a few in black to share with those in my presence, who are face-naked, which is akin to being butt-naked these days.
A Fashion Statement
My latest fashion item is made from blue gray fabric with a smallish print, that coordinates nicely with most of my last years’ outfits. (No need for new clothing this season. We can spend the savings on designer face wear and old Netflix movies.)
My new mask also features a bit of wiring at the top of the nose, that helps it stay in place better. My son-in-law, JC, got a handsome macho model, that shows he’s a serious participant in the new sport of masking. It has air vents and a head strap that keeps it secure.
My miff with masks comes from over-burdening my ears—asking them to do more than God intended. I wear hearing aids and earrings. Adding a piece of elastic to the mix causes a great entanglement, that could lead to the loss of an earring or a costly hearing device.
So I fiddle with my ears a lot while masking. I’ve decided to forego earrings, just as I have makeup below eye level. (Interestingly, I read that DT doesn’t wear a mask, because it would smudge his makeup. Women can relate to that.)
The Mask Monitor
Unintentionally, I’ve become something of a mask monitor. When my mask-less condo neighbor started to board the elevator with me recently, I threw my arms across the door and told him he couldn’t ride without a mask. (I made that up.) But it was enough to keep him at bay.
When I later saw him unmasked at the mailbox, I told him masks were required for mail pickup. (One can never tell if you’re joking, or not, when your fascial expression is hidden behind cloth.) I think he intends to avoid me for the duration of the Pandemic.
When I went into Barnes Hospital for a doctor’s appointment last month, the spacious entry was nearly empty except for a few women sitting at a table—what I call Checkpoint Charlie. One of them immediately pointed a gun to my head—a temperature gun, that is. I feared no harm. (Of course, this was before the infamous stand-off betwixt peaceful protestors and the Pistol-Packers of Portland Place.)
The Elevator Bump
Having passed the border guards, I later staved off a woman trying to get onto MY elevator. When I waved my hands violently and pointed to my mask, she interpreted that as a health warning and stepped back. I had the elevator to myself.
So don’t let me see you without a mask! (Preferably, a funky mask.) Don’t let anyone in public see you without one. It ain’t cool to be careless and face-naked. Masks will eventually go the way of poodle skirts, but for now they’re de rigueur.
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