The Inside Rail

It’s the notices that bother me most.

Being more organized was one of my goals for 2020. In December and January, I pummeled my calendar with events. I logged everything from winter 5Ks to spring field trips to summer concerts. Flat stakes at Keeneland, traditional steeplechase races every weekend.

Somewhere in the melee of the coronavirus, being more organized has dissipated, disappeared. Now, all I get are alerts. Digital reminders. Tomorrow, today, next week…

The Rosaryville half marathon in Upper Marlboro…Shakespeare in the ‘Burg…AAA Cubs practice Thursday…NYTB Dinner…AAA Cubs game Saturday…Aiken…Carolina Cup…Block House…Queen’s Cup…NYC Field Trip meeting…Mom’s Birthday…Jack Clancy’s Birthday…Old Ox Brewery Talk…Hill School Auction…Renaissance Dinner…

They come once a day, sometimes two, three, four at a time. Buzz, buzz, buzz on my phone, my laptop, my iPad. They were meant to remind me of what’s ahead, what to prepare for, what to get excited about, what to think about, what to worry about, now, they simply remind me of what’s not happening, what’s not on our schedule, what’s changed in each of our lives.

As always through this pandemic, my problems are first-world problems. We are healthy, we have space, we have cushion. Now how do I turn off these notices?