The picture is of Anne Frank's hiding place, and the feeling, for me at least, is not dissimilar. I know this disease is out there crawling the streets and the markets and the gas stations like some biblical monster, but I haven't seen it yet. It is getting closer. I can sense it. Last night my younger son told me there is a case at his university.
The good news is that a friend gave me some wrong information this morning that turned out to be a large blessing. She told me a local market was opening to "seniors" at 7AM, and Himself and I threw our clothes on at 6:35AM, grabbed a cart in the parking lot and went through the "Exit Only" door which was the only one that seemed to be open. No one was there except the staff stocking the shelves who explained that they didn't open until 8. I apologized and continued shopping, perfectly happy to wait an hour until someone would be on the register to ring up the order. Then a few other confused souls wandered in and some poor lady had to start her shift early to get us all out of there. I was home before 8:00. My Guardian Angel continues to get combat pay.
It feels like war time out there. Everyone is a little suspicious and very wary. I bumped a collaborative elbow of a woman in the market and then we realized what we had done and looked at each other in shock. In the middle of celebrating our good luck and fortuitous ignorance we scared each other by touching elbows through two down coats. The cashier had a tiny cough. I held my breath as she rang me up. The new normal.
I'm keeping the radio off except for music, because bathing in hysteria is not good for my spirits. I check the news once in the evening and then grab a book or turn on something silly and soothing to watch on TV. At the moment it's "Last Tango in Halifax". Shakespeare it ain't, but it gets the job done. I have to pace my nerves. This is going to be a long haul.
While the office kept me hopping long distance yesterday, answering frightened employees and forwarding phone calls, and paying bills, it is much quieter today. I have a chance to sit and think about how good we've had it for so long. About how much a hug means. How precious a glass of wine is when shared with friends. The joy of stocked shelves and overwhelming choices. The peace of sitting quietly in church, waiting for Mass to start. There are so many things for which I have forgotten to be grateful. I am not fool enough to think that I won't take all these things for granted again. I will. It's human nature. But I have a new insight into why during the 1950's and 60's, long after the Depression and WWII, my parents were still careful not to waste anything, and were never quite comfortable and snug in the world again.
The good news is that a friend gave me some wrong information this morning that turned out to be a large blessing. She told me a local market was opening to "seniors" at 7AM, and Himself and I threw our clothes on at 6:35AM, grabbed a cart in the parking lot and went through the "Exit Only" door which was the only one that seemed to be open. No one was there except the staff stocking the shelves who explained that they didn't open until 8. I apologized and continued shopping, perfectly happy to wait an hour until someone would be on the register to ring up the order. Then a few other confused souls wandered in and some poor lady had to start her shift early to get us all out of there. I was home before 8:00. My Guardian Angel continues to get combat pay.
It feels like war time out there. Everyone is a little suspicious and very wary. I bumped a collaborative elbow of a woman in the market and then we realized what we had done and looked at each other in shock. In the middle of celebrating our good luck and fortuitous ignorance we scared each other by touching elbows through two down coats. The cashier had a tiny cough. I held my breath as she rang me up. The new normal.
I'm keeping the radio off except for music, because bathing in hysteria is not good for my spirits. I check the news once in the evening and then grab a book or turn on something silly and soothing to watch on TV. At the moment it's "Last Tango in Halifax". Shakespeare it ain't, but it gets the job done. I have to pace my nerves. This is going to be a long haul.
While the office kept me hopping long distance yesterday, answering frightened employees and forwarding phone calls, and paying bills, it is much quieter today. I have a chance to sit and think about how good we've had it for so long. About how much a hug means. How precious a glass of wine is when shared with friends. The joy of stocked shelves and overwhelming choices. The peace of sitting quietly in church, waiting for Mass to start. There are so many things for which I have forgotten to be grateful. I am not fool enough to think that I won't take all these things for granted again. I will. It's human nature. But I have a new insight into why during the 1950's and 60's, long after the Depression and WWII, my parents were still careful not to waste anything, and were never quite comfortable and snug in the world again.
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