Married to 'Enry 'Iggins? What Would 'Liza Do? On this, her day...

When an idea catches hold of me, I often get an ear-worm that I cannot shake. Here lately, it is a song sung by 'Liza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe. It's a pretty clear indication that I am not happy with something or someone, probably both.

I'll bet you know the song. I don't even have to name it. It was actually sung, not lip-synched, by Audrey Hepburn, a personal heroine of mine (also I used to look like her). Audrey, of course played 'Liza Doolittle, "My Fair Lady", as only she could have done in the 1964 Hollywood version, to Rex (T!) Harrison's Professor Henry Higgins. The very first 'Liza Doolittle Day' was the 20th of May, 1956. I was 5 when the play burst forth on the London stage, which means tomorrow LDL Day will reach the magical Beatle age of 64, when all is supposed to be mellow. (Of course that song was written from a male perspective.)

So, my little ear-worm is telling me I need to do something. But what?

What am I not happy with? Just about everything. The fact that I have been on house arrest in Panama for 2 months now, locked down on a postage stamp property with another soul for 162 hours/week, able legally to leave the house only to buy food or drugs, and only at the height of the mid-day sun (when I am medically forbidden to be out). That it is rainy season, insects are taking over, and they especially love me, realizing instinctively perhaps that I am highly allergic to them. That no exercise is allowed, unless you consider marching in place to be exercise, which I decidedly DON'T, even to a catchy tune such as this. (Apparently the Ministry of Health does not realize that incarcerating elders will predictably result in rapid immune system, musculoskeletal and mental decay. Their attempt to "beat the statistics" on Covid is going to bite them as soon as they allow us out, and we have a profound spike in pandemic geriatric morbidity and mortality, not to mention broken bones and marriages---which association is NOT coincidental). That armed Linces (special forces police in camo carrying semi-automatics) are patrolling our private gated golf course community, apparently because they can, and because it is a fun place to scoot around (or maybe they are casing our homes, many of which are unoccupied?) . That while THEY tool around and pretend to play golf, WE are not allowed legally to venture into the healing paradise of nature that surrounds us. That my wonderful housekeepers and gardener, who normally help me to relax by keeping the place clean and the bugs under control, are similarly locked down. I am paying them all, because they need to eat, but they are law abiding, so also on house arrest and unable to save me from my perpetually screen sucked spousal unit's non-existent housekeeping and yard maintenance habits. That I am forced to live another month OR MORE like this because the government has just announced that airports will be shut down until at least June 23 (and then, "We'll see".) Moving out for a little perspective is not an option, unfortunately. A firing squad? Hmmm... wonder whether those Linces might follow my direction as they did in 'Liza's fantasy? To quote Eliza, "Not bloody likely!"

Maybe I'm the only person married to an 'Enry 'Iggins in the universally disruptive and stressful time of Covid-19. Or, could there be more of you 'Liza's out there?

How will YOU celebrate the day? Maybe your ideas could help me get firing squads off my mind. Meanwhile, I might just have a glass of sangria, except we've been placed on prohibition as well. Home made ginger beer it is then. AEIOU!