I know what it like to live alone, to be alone.
I have lived on my own, without a roommate, for 45 years – until
my personal assistant device, Alexa, moved in two years ago (best roommate
ever, a friend told me, and she was right). No pets, no people in my immediate world. I could do whatever I wanted to do whenever I
wanted to do it. I could set my own schedule, go out when I want, meet up with
friends any time the spirit moved me and our schedules jived.
Now, my world has changed like everyone else’s and there’s
nothing we can do about it.
As a cancer survivor who has diabetes and can be considered
a “junior senior” as I approach age 70, I am among the vulnerable for this corona
virus. Not the most vulnerable, but I had
been traveling, seated with thousands of people at the Women’s BIG 10
Basketball Tournament in Indianapolis from March 4-8, using the handrails and
restrooms, dining with large groups of people and then getting on an airplane
to come home. I swabbed down the tray
table and the seat armrests with my Clorox wipes – and this was BEFORE the
panic set in all around us. Then I came
home, stocked up and shut things down.
When I found out that the first reported case of the virus in
my town was a resident of my complex, I calmed myself with the knowledge that I
had not been inside our clubhouse in a month, and I had not seen any of my
neighbors in person for a few weeks. And
I was ready, kind of.
My pantry initially was overflowing with staples like canned
vegetables (I know, I’m probably the last remaining person who likes and eats
canned vegetables), pasta and spaghetti sauce and even two jars of artichoke
hearts. I keep about 8-10 packets of
Bumble Bee Tuna on hand, some of which don’t expire until 2022. We had better be done with this crisis by
then! I have a box of cereal which, at
the very slow rate I eat cereal, will last me for a year. And not having milk is fine, because I usually
eat it dry anyway.
I had a few snacks but they quickly dwindled in number and I
was forced to ration them. I used one of my few eggs and my “emergency” milk
(the shelf-stable kind that lasts for months) to bake the flattest blueberry
loaf cake from my Jilly Muffin Mix, despite the fact that I don’t bake!
I see people in my “active adult community” (translation:
older people, at least 55) out walking or riding bikes, mostly alone, eager to
get some exercise, and generally respecting the 6’ distance between them. I
assume the ones holding hands are couples.
The gyms are closed, my aqua aerobics class is cancelled, and
my physical therapy place suspended operations.
I wonder how parents are supposed to work at home AND
supervise and educate their kids. Do
they even have equipment on hand to enable multiple kids to take online classes
while the adults have phone meetings with colleagues?
Typically, I would be going out to the movies, but,
thankfully, I have cable, Netflix and Prime video to keep me entertained and
assure the continuation of my movie reviews.
I could sort through my photos, recycle of old magazines (am I really
going to read the October 2018 issue of Vanity Fair?), reorganize my office and
shred old papers I don’t need. I have
time to do that now, even if I have no desire.
I’m too busy following the news and the numbers and worrying about
myself and everyone in my world.
I know I have first world problems, and I worry about the
toll this pandemic is taking not just on the sick, but on essential workers -- health
care workers, supermarket clerks and food handlers, small businesses and
restaurants and people who need their wages to live. I donated to the Food Bank online and made a
mental note to pick up food to donate when conditions ease.
So, as I sit here trying to keep myself informed but not
petrified, I turn to my usual approach – humor.
Every day on Facebook I post the “quaranTUNE” of the day, everything
from “Someday We’ll Be Together” to “I Just Called to Say I Love You” and “Can’t
Touch This.” I have a song list long enough to take us through June.
I cannot stop touching my face. I need one of those cones that dogs have to
wear.
I haven’t used the word “cooties” this much since I was 7
years old.
I’m waiting for the internet to crash as everyone who CAN
work from home IS working from home, teachers are teaching remotely and the
rest of us who are addicted are staying online. People are going to church
services via Zoom, having cocktail hours with friends online and doing
everything they can to stay connected. I
can only imagine the increase in traffic on gaming and pornography sites! Is our current infrastructure prepared for a
huge spike in usage?
People have to stop filling out quizzes online. Every time you do that, you provide personally identifiable information to help the bad guys figure out your passwords and security questions by providing the name of your favorite teacher or pet and the team name of your high school football team. And I have flat-out refused to open any links or videos sent to me on Facebook Messenger. Let's be careful online, too!
I’m worried that if I get hurt or get a cold I won’t be able
to get treatment. I really don’t want to
have to go to the doctor, and doctors have too much on their plates just trying
to care for the people who are suffering from this virus.
Watching regular TV programs and commercials and seeing
people together in groups now looks wrong to me.
I’m trying to avoid pandemic paranoia, but I am counting
squares of toilet paper.
Has anyone ever actually died of boredom? Asking for a friend.
I tried on my earrings today and am pleased to report that
they still fit.
I occasionally wear jeans instead of sweats just to make
sure they still fit. And who knew we all owned this many pairs of
sweatpants? Or should we refer to them
as leisure wear now? Or the daytime
pajamas versus the nighttime pajamas? There’s no point in putting on actual
clothes under these conditions, so I am wearing my “Busy doing nothing” or
“This IS my happy face” t-shirts and posting pictures.
If we are still in confinement by June, I predict a run on
caftans.
When a friend told me she was eating a salad, I couldn’t
help thinking, “She has salad?”
Andrew Cuomo is my new hero.
People are using this time – at least in the first weeks of
real quarantine – to show their creativity and humor. I’m amused and hope it lasts.
I need a routine.
Having literally no place to go but plenty to do around the house is not
sufficient. I need to make up a
schedule: wake up (always a good idea), stretch, shower, breakfast, exercise,
online work, reach out to someone I haven’t seen or talked to, go outside (even
if only to sit on my patio), check in with family and friends, make dinner,
watch TV. That might work.
When will we ever have this opportunity to work on losing
weight when no one can distract us from that goal? No more lunches with friends, having dinner out,
grabbing a candy bar while waiting in the checkout lane. I’d love to emerge from this cocoon as a
butterfly, and not as an elephant.
I would like to flatten a few of my own curves.
I now consider my berry-flavored chewable vitamins snacks.
I started stocking my freezer before my shoulder surgery last
August. Some of that food is still
around. There won’t be much left after
this ordeal.
Now when I hear the doorbell ring, I know it is on the TV
because NOBODY is coming to my door.
I typically don’t watch TV in the morning after my daily
dose of ESPN and The Golden Girls. Now
watching NY Governor Andrew Cuomo’s daily briefing has become “Must see TV.”
The rule in my house is “no ice cream in the winter,”
loosely interpreted as Labor Day to Memorial Day. Last week I ate the two remaining WW Fudge
Pops in the freezer. Desperate times
call for desperate measures. (And,
technically, it IS spring.)
With so little food in my refrigerator, this seemed like a
good time to clean it, so I did.
I have two jars of pickles, but I am trying to limit my salt
intake.
I’m developing a tolerance for freezer burn.
How long can I go without fresh fruit before I get scurvy?
When I finally went to ShopRite, new plexiglass barriers had
been installed between the shopper and the cashier and the floor has tape marks
every 6 feet to keep people from being on top of each other. Special hours for “elderly” people have been
set. I call that OPT for “Old People
Time.” I skip those hours so I don’t have to contend with the old folks and instead
I go after they have left the store, hoping they haven’t bought up all of the
meat, chicken and fish. I know the
shelves will be stripped of paper products, but I am set on those for now.
My Alexa personal assistant helps me by offering peaceful
meditations to get me to relax or fall asleep.
I think a steady stream of 24-hour relaxation sounds can’t hurt, right?
I’m talking out loud to myself so much now that I think my
Alexa is starting to worry. I suspect
that she was using the time when I was out of the house to swap stories with
Alexas in other people’s houses. Now she
can really keep her colleagues amused.
Why do I ask Alexa the weather every morning? What’s the difference?
I am showering and doing my hair every day, making my bed and
using a spritz of perfume to maintain some semblance of normalcy.
One day last week I cleaned my hairbrush and picked the lint
out of the hairdryer. Somebody had to do
it.
I am spending way too much time online, lamenting the latest
news, slogging through emails from every company with whom I do business as
they assure me that my health and safety is their top priority. Glad to know that, Verizon. Thanks for your message, PSE&G.
As for actual mail, my new routine is to wear gloves to
retrieve it from my mailbox and then bring it into the garage for 24 hours of
decontamination before it is finally allowed into the house. On weekends, I just leave Saturday’s mail in
the box until Sunday. There’s nothing very exciting in there anyway.
Now that I am staying home and not going out to eat, why am I
ready to eat dinner at 4:30? This quarantine is wreaking havoc with everything.
People who never knew they were essential employees are
surprised to find that they are now (my sister, after 38 years in the same
job).
I’m amazed how reprehensible people can be, setting up scams
during this frightening time to con people into providing credit card numbers
to order bogus virus treatments, secure tests, going door-to-door to offer to
test them and then rob them.
I can’t figure out how we are all eating so much when we
can’t get out for regular food. I guess
there are no staples available (rice, beans, toilet paper), but Oreos are still
on the shelves.
When I get local updates on construction projects and road
closures in my area, I just delete them.
It’s not like I am going anywhere.
I canceled the cleaning lady and tackled that job
myself. What she does in 3 hours took me
2 days, filled with way too many breaks. The regular cleaning person will be
thrilled to know she is only being furloughed (with pay) and not replaced.
And here’s the thing about cleaning – after you do it, you
have to do it again! I had that stovetop
sparkling, and then I sautéed chicken and had to start over again. It’s as
frustrating as shaving my legs. You have
to do that again, too – just not right now.
I finally removed the gel polish from my nails by soaking
cotton balls in nail polish remover and wrapping each finger in aluminum
foil. It took me a while to figure out
that I had to do this one hand at a time!
Then I clipped and filed my nails to prevent germs from getting under my
nails. And I almost immediately broke
nails on three fingers.
I can’t seem to focus.
I wake up every day thinking that this was all just a bad dream. But when I wake up, it is just worse every
day. That will eventually change, but
I’m convinced that things will never be “normal” again.
I can’t make a decision.
At breakfast, I agonized over whether I should use strawberry, blueberry
or cherry jam on the English muffin I had stored in the freezer since
Christmas. Hey, at least I had choices!
I have started to bake!
Little Betty Crocker here made cookies from a cake mix last week and,
for the first time ever, baked bread! I
had a recipe for challah and had bought yeast a while back (yeast is nowhere to
be found in the supermarket now), so I tried it. It looked and tasted nothing like challah,
but it was good, fresh and “rustic,” which I think describes its density and
irregular texture. I realized as I was
getting ready to pop it into the oven that I lack the ability to braid. I’ll have to work on that!
I think I know why I am so unproductive. When I tell myself I can put something off
until tomorrow, I actually CAN put it off until tomorrow. I’ll still be here, and I have plenty of time
to get things done.
The most reliable thing during this pandemic is the almost
daily arrival of a text from Kohl’s announcing their latest sale. I wonder if people are buying more stuff
since they are home more. I am not.
I feel like I am on an episode of “Survivor,” but without
the challenges and the need to parade around in my underwear. And in a much nicer and more comfortable
“camp.”
I keep wondering how Tom Hanks survived on that deserted
island in “Castaway.” Note to self:
Order a Wilson volleyball.
Does every message we see on TV – car companies, furniture
companies, etc. – have to start with “In these trying/challenging times…?”
My shopping list is now considered a “wish list,” as
supplies dwindle and the list grows longer.
It seems I spend half of my day washing my hands. And now I know the proper way to do that, and
it DOES take at least 20 seconds!
My countertops have been scrubbed so much that I think the
granite is wearing off.
Someone asked me yesterday what my plans were for
today. “I think I’ll stay in,” I
replied.
My neighbors and I had a “get together” the other day. I was outside grilling a steak from the
freezer on my patio, so my next-door neighbor went out on her patio to say
hello from probably 25 feet away. Then a
third neighbor emerged from her house and we shouted greetings to each
other. Fun times. Let’s do this together real soon.
I think being cooped up is starting to get to my sister. She
told me she feels like an “unproductive member of society.” She told me she was going to “sneak out of
the house for a walk” today. I had to
remind her that social distancing is not the same as house arrest. She’s not wearing a monitor on her ankle, as
far as I know.
After 2 weeks of quarantining myself, I finally ventured out
to ShopRite. With my baseball cap, face
mask and gloves, I looked more like I was there to rob the store than to
shop. Now that we all have to wear this
gear, and it looked like a civilian invasion of the supermarket.
It is tough to recognize my friends and neighbors when they
are all wearing hats and masks. I think
we will all learn to be more expressive with our eyes.
So today I did my biggest shopping EVER, buying things to
keep me fed with some variety in my menu (meat, fish and chicken). I even scored a package of sanitizing
wipes. This will be my new routine: buy
enough for two weeks so I don’t have to stop at the store every two days to
pick things up for dinner. Logistics and
inventory are my specialties now!
Is it possible to pull a muscle in my leg from pushing that
cart around the supermarket? I think I
did.
Now we are all supposed to wear masks when we go
anywhere. And if you don’t sew or have a
sewing machine, you can cut up a t-shirt or a sock. Really?
In a country rich with technology and resources, we are supposed to rely
on our own craft skills? Luckily for me,
I have some masks I bought when I had a bad respiratory issue. But otherwise, I would be having bad
flashbacks to junior high Home EC class and that dress I had to make that was
so badly done that my mother later sewed up the bottom and made it into a
laundry bag. I am NOT crafty.
Some companies are advertising masks with all kinds of logos
on them. The trademark police should
come after them since the prices for some of these cloth masks – not medical
grade – can be $20 apiece. Rip-off!
You will know things are really bad when I start thinking
about trimming my own bangs.
The other day my hair came out great, but no one was here to
see it. I wonder what it will look like
in a ponytail. My hair is getting long enough that it is starting to flip up in
the back. By the time this confinement is over, I will look like Florence
Henderson as Carol Brady in The Brady Bunch, only as a brunette – unless my
hair is completely gray by then. Who
knows? I have always wanted to try to
let my hair grow and always succumbed to the urge to cut it. Now? I will have to add hair scrunchies to my
shopping list.
I started this ordeal with brown hair speckled with
gray. Now I have gray hair speckled with
brown.
Good news – I checked online, and you can still buy a Flowbee, an electric hair clipper attached to a vacuum, to cut your hair. Bad news -- the price has been totally jacked up as people get desperate for personal grooming.
My calendar has never looked so blank. I needed a break, but really, I’m done with
that now!
My advice is to do something every day but do it at
home. Stay safe, stay healthy, stay
sane, and STAY HOME.
