At this point in this endless period of self-isolation, I probably resemble a hermit. My hair is thick, long, and unruly; A barber would have his afternoon cut out for him. My beard is becoming unkempt, and I've unfortunately misplaced the guard for my clippers. I could shave my head out of desperation like Britney Spears once did, but I tried that look once and I did myself no cosmetic favors. It's inconvenient, but I feel I have no choice right now but to continue to look like Ted Kaczynski's handsome younger brother.
Right now, I wonder if I look like the Hermit upright, a wise sage with flowing hair, content with the present moment, however difficult and uncertain, or do I resemble the Hermit reversed, an unwashed hippie who has nothing but time to bask in his own laziness? I'm probably both on alternating days. There are the days when I feel I'm handing quarantined life with grace, patience, and strength, and then there are the days when I want to smash my cup of coffee against a wall because I feel like I'm waking up every day in a halfway house with good wi-fi but limited visitation rights.
How will I, the Hermit, emerge when the ban on normal life has been lifted? Will I be wiser or will I continue to be a fool? Will I have more patience and endurance, or will I just pretend that it never happened and just breathe a sigh of ignorant relief? I hope for the former, but just I might just skip the delayed visit to the barbershop and keep my hair long.
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