A skill we've all lost to Covid.

I'm starting to believe that I either need to cut out my morning walks or just accept that in this Time of Covid we've all lost our ability to judge what is appropriate and what is not in terms of small talk.

Unfortunately for me, (but awesome for you, my readers), I am a complete slave to my Fit Bit and bad things happen in my world if I don't my fluffiness out of bed and get moving in the dawn's early light.

After my last blog, (the one where the guy having his first cigarette of the morning decided to ask me if I knew the hottie on his dating app), I decided to talk another route for my morning walk. Since I'm nursing my ever aching knees-ankles-feet, how far I go and which direction I go out of  my driveway all depend on how much pain I'm already in at 6:30 in the morning.

Yesterday morning I felt good.  I felt great. I felt wonderful!  (But don't get excited. It almost never happens.)  So I decided to turn RIGHT out of my driveway, instead of the usual left, and walk up the tiny little hill.

That lead to me a street a couple blocks away where the houses are a tiny bit newer, a tiny bit nicer, than the ones on my block. I don't know anyone who lives in these houses, but they are all tidy and the street is very shaded, and it's a nice walk.

I saw a lady with a dog. The dog barked. She said good morning to me and shut up to the dog.

Normal!

I saw a 900 year old male ghost (okay, he's just the palest, oldest, human I've ever seen outside of a casket) standing next to an equally ancient pug. They were staring at each other, one pleading with the other to poop so they could both go back to the recliner and the TV.  They didn't say anything.  Strange, but I'd seen them before.

And then...well then I got to the bottom of the little hill, almost to the turn for home. I'd very nearly made it through a morning walk without either getting nearly run over by a driver who doesn't believe in stop signs or accosted by someone looking for life coaching.

And then...

And then...this car pulled into the driveway ahead of where I was on the sidewalk.  A woman got out, one of those "fresh, fine, and fun" G-mas
with her travel mug in one hand and a kicky bag in the other.  She had a spunky hair cut, her clothes were tidy and not at all old ladylike.

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, see, she opened her mouth.

"You have to watch for those bumpers." She says to me.  Not hello. Not good morning.  Nope.  "You have to watch for those bumpers."

I thought maybe she'd bumped into the car ahead of her in the driveway. Maybe she'd hit the curb and I missed it. I started looking around for...a bumper?

"I leaned against a truck and now I have a wet butt."

"Oh...yeah...you have to watch out," I said.  Why do people tell me this?  I'm just walking along. I barely have my eyes open.  I haven't had coffee, the chances are better than even I look like something akin to a character from "The Walking Dead."

"Yeah...now I have a wet butt," she repeated.

I would have started walking faster, but I was raised in the Midwest. We don't do things that seem rude. Sure, talking to a stranger about the moistness of one's rear end...that's fine.    "Well, have a good day anyway," was all I could manage.

I made it home, but I'm almost afraid to go back out there. I mean, has Covid truly taken away our ability to make small talk with strangers?

What else will we lose?