Day 47





Day 47, self quarantine

Today is Friday, May 1, 2020. Welcome to month two of the apocalypse.

If you had told me on March 13, 2020 that I would not be returning to my office for the next eight weeks but I’d be getting a paycheck, anyway, while wearing pajamas and hanging in my daughter’s former bedroom with the dog...

Or that my husband would be retired after being furloughed from his recession proof job of over twenty five years, and would be ecstatically planning the Summer of Gary...

Or that I would learn  scoring a roll of toilet paper would be one hundred times harder than scoring a half ounce of weed...

Or that I would be able to go two months without a haircut, touch up, manicure, or facial wax without losing my super powers or my mind...

Or that I would  be able to turn almost anything into a mask if you gave me two rubber bands...

Or that I would  wear that mask whenever I left my house and be furious at anyone not wearing one...

Or that I would willingly stay inside for days at a time and never venture outdoors unless I absolutely had to...

Or that I would ever participate in anything called Zoom...

Or that the schools would be closed for the summer in the winter...

Or that there would be no more proms or graduations...

Or that I would live in a world without live music...

Or that there would be no movie theaters...or no Broadway...

(Okay, I’m cool with no Broadway)

Or that there would be zero major league sports...or any sports...

Or that I would be happy to be watching ten year old reruns of even minor league sports...

Or that there would be no fine restaurant dining...or any restaurant dining...

Or that I would be afraid to order a pizza unless it was delivered “contact free”...

Or that I would even know what contact free...or social distancing...or food insecurities...or flattening the curve meant...

Or that the downtown streets of my usually bustling city would be desolate and boarded up...

Or that there would be Wawa trucks parked outside local hospitals used as makeshift morgues...

Or that our family and friends would die alone and in isolation...

Or that there would be no funeral services for them...

Or that it might be a year before I would hug my kids again...

Oh my god.

If you had told me to just imagine any one of these things, I would have told you don’t scare me with outrageous science fiction projection but okay, with the exception of working in pajamas and Gary’s retirement, of course I couldn’t do it, I would never be able to live in a world like that.

Never.

But I’m doing it, aren’t I.

And so are you.

Congratulations.  Everybody take a damn bow.

I’m not joking.

Somehow, we’re figuring out how to survive in this new bizarre world, one day at a time...one second at a time...with a deadly virus hanging over our heads and a President so incompetent and mentally unhinged it’s breathtaking.

I don’t know about you, but I’m finding out I’m a hell of a lot stronger than I thought.

(Though admittedly, that bar was low.)

Anyway, we made it.

Happy Friday ❤️