"I like to take showers every morning and I don't like the panties drying on the rod."

I just channeled my inner Richard Dreyfus from The Goodbye Girl. Yesterday was a busy day and I went through three cloth masks. This morning, as they dried in my shower, they seemed to dominate my little bathroom. Here are my observations of my action-packed Saturday.

MASK #1) I met my new doctor! Love her, love her, love her! She graduated from med school in 2009, which I assume makes her between 35 and 40. Educated in India, she did her residency and internship right here in Chicago. She wore pink scrubs, had a pink stethoscope, and a (fresh) pale pink manicure.

Not her, but it could be.

She spent a ton of time with me. I went through my medical history -- scribbled on the back of an envelope* -- and she keystroked everything onto her iPad. I offered to sign forms to get my lab results from my former, not at all missed doctor, she said there was "no need."

"It's been more than six months, so let's just do our own labs." She's my doctor! Not just some interim, stop gap provider. She's taking over my total care.

She reassured me that my lungs sound fine now, she heard no residual damage from my bronchitis earlier this year, that any congestion I'm experiencing is nasal and likely from allergies. She gave me a script for a 3-D mammogram and recommended a sleep study.

Her manicure came up when we talked about things reopening in our neighborhood. I told her I had a pedi appointment, and she talked about how comfortable she was getting her own new manicure because both she and the nail tech were wearing masks. So you all can choose to believe those whiners in the blogosphere who insist that masks are nothing more than "oppression." I'm going to listen to the lady in the pink stethoscope.

MASK #2) My first trip to the salon in 13 weeks! Since I regularly get my hair cut/colored every four weeks, that means I was three trips overdue. Good for my budget, bad for my soul. I was worried about Tony, my stylist, because he's a small business owner who has been closed for more than two months. I tipped him 30% and bought a bottle of conditioner, just to help him out.

He didn't count the money in front of me, but I know he appreciates it because he was full of tales of kindness from his regular customers. Here's my favorite: as soon as he closed back in March, Tony received a check for $360 from a long-time client. This man, an 80-something friend of his late father's, explained he was paying Tony in advance for a year of hair cuts. Considering that the gentleman is on a fixed income, that's a sacrifice. Tony welled up as he told me, so to lighten the mood I joked, "You only charge him $30 for a hair cut?"

"He has less hair than you, Gal."

I asked him if he ran into any of those whiners who refuse to wear masks. He said only one. A wealthy retiree who just returned to Chicagoland after spending his winter in Phoenix. Over the phone, Tony told this client just what he told me: "You have to wear a mask to enter and I'm taking your temperature before we begin the service."

Mr. Wealthy Snowbird started to complain. These precautions are silly. It's all a joke and a hoax, etc., etc.

Tony responded, "If I get sick, I'm out of work again. I can't afford it. If you don't want to follow these rules, I'm sorry but you can't come."

Something else for the "oppression" whiners to consider; What if you're wrong? What gives you the right to jeopardize someone else's health and livelihood?

I'm now cut, colored, and highlighted. My mullet is gone, and Tony is OK. I'm a happy gal!

Alas, two stars at best.

MASK #3) Ravioli di zucca. There's a small ristorante in my neighborhood that's been having a rough time of it. They opened, and their chef had emergency surgery so they had to close. They reopened, and the pandemic hit!

At the beginning of this crisis, I decided to consistently support a different Italian restaurant: the corner pizza place. Their food is just OK, but they have always been there for Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, Little League, etc., and I figured now was the time for the community to pay them back for their generosity. Well Saturday, I was tired and hungry and I wanted good food. So I treated myself pumpkin ravioli from the ristorante instead.

It was delicious. It was also too rich for my system and sent me into a food coma. I barely made it through the perfectly wretched Elvis movie I DVR'd for the occasion.

Saturday was the kind of Saturday I would have resented, pre-pandemic. I would have deemed it too busy, too structured, with not enough alone time. But that was before. Now that we're during, it felt kind of exciting.

 *One of the benefits of regular blogging: When I wondered, "When did I have that mole biopsied?" or "How long did I have c. diff?" the answers were all right here because I wrote about them in real time.