How are we doing, kids?
I wish I had something interesting to say. But here in Pandemic Paradise, each day is the same. Get up. Dress. Go online. Work. Take a break to exercise. Do some more work. Return texts and emails. Eat something. Work a bit more. Watch TV. Undress. Go to bed. Rinse and repeat.
The only time I leave my building is on Saturday when I head out to John’s to bring him groceries. To get my own groceries. Or for absolutely necessary errands, of which there really aren’t that many right now. I tried for two days to resolve a banking issue over the phone and online and was unsuccessful. So I made an appointment to take care of it in person at my branch tomorrow. Wearing a mask, of course.
And hey, look, I cut my own bangs. Haven’t done that since I was about five years old.
No play, of course. Can’t even go on a pre-play coffee date these days. I miss it. Definitely a First World Problem in the face of death and unemployment and financial ruin, but what can I say. It’s wired into me and I crave it.
Many parties, small and large, have been canceled. Joe is staying positive and hoping Shadow Lane/Lodge can still happen over Labor Day. I’m skeptical. But that’s four months from now. Hope springs eternal. If we’re all still living, that is.
My stepmom turns 89 today. I can’t see her to take her to lunch like I usually do, but I sent her flowers. It’s a crap time to be having a birthday, but I wanted to brighten her day if I could. She loved them.
My moods fluctuate. Sometimes I can hunker down and work, and forget what’s going on out there. Sometimes I can go on Twitter or Facebook and banter with friends. Sometimes I even laugh. Other times, I feel so damn powerless and angry and frustrated I could rip through walls with my bare hands. Other times, I’m so scared, all I can do is break down and cry.
My dear friend Jay sent me a care package a couple of weeks ago. It was completely unexpected and I had no idea what was inside. As I opened the large box, the first thing I saw was a jumbo-sized canister of Lysol wipes. There was hand sanitizer included too. I bawled like a baby.
Another friend had a neighbor knock on her door on Easter Sunday. They backed away when she came to the door, but on the doorstep was a plate filled with Easter dinner, some candy, and half a 12-pack of toilet paper, wrapped with ribbon. This sort of situation tends to bring out the best among us. ♥
Unfortunately, it also brings out the worst. Yeah, I understand wanting to get back to normal life. But the stay-at-home rules aren’t a punishment cooked up to make us miserable — they are to keep us safe. So, to all those ignorant, belligerent little @#$%s out there protesting the quarantine, blocking traffic, carrying your stupid misspelled signs and Confederate flags, spreading your germs everywhere, and whining because you can’t play golf or get your hair cut — do us all a favor. Please feel free to spread all the virus you want among yourselves. Have at it and have an orgy for all I care. Just stay. The Fuck. Away from those of us who are following the rules and want to stay alive. 😦
And for those who attend this thing, or others like it (bring your children?? Jeezus Effing Christ) — oh, so many things I’d like to say. But I will refrain. I’ll just say one thing, paraphrasing Forrest Gump:
“Stupid is as stupid DIES.”
EDIT, 4/23: IMPORTANT!
I have just been informed that the above rally poster was a hoax. (Some hoax!) Whatever, thank goodness. However, the picture below is quite real. I stand by my statement about stupid.
For those who can still play, please have fun, escape a bit and blow off some stress. We need to stay strong. We need to find our moments of fun, of joy, of abandon, of release.
And for those who can’t… well. There’s still plenty of chocolate out there.
Or ice cream. And remember, pints are for lightweights.
Please stay safe, friends.