Ready For Anything

“Eric, have you seen my scissors?”

“No, have you checked all the drawers in the kitchen?”

“No, these are special scissors.”

“Well, I don’t really know what you mean, but, no, I haven’t seen any. Maybe ask Matt. He probably knows where they wandered off to.”

I continued searching frantically in every foreseeable spot throughout the three-story house I was renting a room in, only two weeks into the statewide pandemic shutdown, but to no avail.

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, many of us found ourselves with an abundance of time on our hands, and with that, an equal abundance of tasks on which to catch up. Home improvement and domestics were by no means excluded from this list.

With the postal service backed up with a cluster of orders, I began to ponder how long it would be before I could get another pair of scissors in my grasp. At that time, I couldn’t simply walk into a store to purchase a pair.

I recalled the first pair of shears I received from my aunt at the age of twelve when she taught me how to sew. When I found a pair of shiny new shears at my bedroom door, along with a note attached from my roommate, I exclaimed in joy. My other roommates did not share or quite grasp my enthusiasm, but rather found humor in my misunderstood elation.

Nonetheless, over the next six months, I was graced with the rediscovery of just how valuable my roommate’s gift had become in a time when the accessibility of common goods became a daily challenge.

I used to craft, knit, and sew, but when I was suddenly shut inside, I realized how often I needed sharp, precise scissors for practically everything.

After moving to the Seattle metro area only two weeks prior to the shutdown, I found myself in dire need of new clothing, which then inspired me to tap into my old hobby of hand-altering my old band tee-shirts that no longer fit me. With my trusty pair of scissors, my old tees were transformed into reusable shopping bags, open backed tunics, and elbow patches on my vintage sweaters and blazers.

After a grueling six weeks, my bare-necessity online orders finally arrived. I once again looked to my trusted scissors to open my packages. When the pet stores were closed and my cat grew bored of his new and isolated indoor environment, I hand-crafted new cat toys for him with only a pair of scissors and scraps of material left over from my clothing projects. I began crafting new jewelry from my findings on day hikes as well.

In the early days of COVID-19’s demise, we experienced mask shortages. However, with my scissors, I knew I was ready for anything. When I needed to repair the straps on the only N-95 mask I could find, I looked to my scissors once again. A simple household tool made the difference between a feeling of safety and vulnerability when I would leave my home for groceries.

During quarantine, I was inspired to start cooking traditional French dishes and was able to use my scissors to cut the trussing string for my first Duck L’orange before and after popping it into the oven. This simple utility accommodated the first real feast of any valor that I or any of my roommates had indulged in since the pandemic.

And finally, as a woman of consideration for my own self-image and need for variety, like many (you know who you are), I was able to use my scissors to cut my hair when I couldn’t get an appointment. I don’t recommend this, but with the tutorials of my hairdresser mother and some YouTube videos, the only additional tool I needed was a nice, sharp pair of reliable and comfortable scissors. Believe it or not, it’s the key to not screwing up your bangs or giving yourself split ends!

When things started to settle down and businesses began to open their doors, Spring crept in. I couldn’t wait to start a garden in a new city and broke out my trusty scissors with which to thin out my heirloom broccoli starts I had grown from seed in my sunny bay window.

After living through one of the most inconvenient, transformational, and introspective periods of my life in the midst of a global shutdown, I gained nothing but perspective and appreciation for seemingly ordinary objects. A simple household tool became a symbol of normalcy and control when all else seemed uncertain.

When I was forced to cut all of the excessive luxuries out of my life, the real material necessities that mattered to me most were not cut out, but through, and transformed into something much greater. With a seemingly ordinary object I had rediscovered my talents, and with that, a sense of safety and self.