As the random blahs kick in

So this general shutdown or shelter-in-place or self-isolation, call it want you want, is dragging on and will likely do so. Any novelty’s worn off. I miss my old routine and acquaintances. Can I assume I’m speaking for everyone?

My wife and I are lucky to live in a big enough old house so that we’re not always tripping over each other except in the kitchen. (Not that you care.) We have a big yard, too, which this time of year is beginning to demand gardening attention, getting me outside in the dirt and, well, mud. We also have access to a lovely carriage trail we can follow through a nearby woods to the top of a hill, giving us some decent exercise almost daily.

But I’ve definitely reached the state of blah, even when it’s not one of those dull wet deeply gray days. No, as I draft this, it’s partly sunny outside my window.

So here I am, up in one end of the third-floor attic, while my wife’s “working from home” with an online meeting on the first floor. I hate to walk through that. You know, the little square showing her face in the upper right-hand corner? Anyone else know the feeling? I’d move her to another room, but she’s comfortable in that particular spot. We try to adjust.

I can’t imagine being cooped up in a tiny apartment, much less with kids, though I’m sure that’s the case for many. Even a mobile unit in a trailer park would be way too confining.

What’s shut down goes beyond much of what most of us are seeing. Look, it even includes playgrounds! The one around the corner saved my sanity with the younger one more times than I can count. Let me sympathize with every parent during this duration.

But let’s try to be aware of the wider impact.

No bus service in our region, for example, and greatly reduced public transportation in the big cities. Think subways, for starters. People can really be trapped, not just feel it. You can’t really call a friend for a ride, being in a car together would be too much proximity. I mean, even the mail carrier has a protocol. Stand back! Let’s not get too close, as I learned this morning, when he tried to add another envelope to our intake.

No schools or restaurants, that part’s visible, just listen to all the activity around the block.

Funerals are on hold. Weddings, too. Even haircuts and styling.

I’m feeling sorry for teens and young adults. This year there will be no proms or high school and college graduation ceremonies. Welcome to the Class of Covid.

Que lastima. (It’s the closest I come to Latin.)

I’m really feeling for some of the swimming pool lifeguards I’m not seeing, thanks to said event. Back to prom and graduation and hearing about their college acceptances.

The ones for whom this was supposed to be their Big Year. What a fizzle.

Hey, kids, I love you all the same. And yes, I hope you’re all still healthy, despite that spring-break Carnival cruise. Ahem.

~*~

Of course, I’m also feeling a lot of anger.

Firstly those morons who want Anthony Fauci, MD, fired because he puts people over the current resident of the White House. (I won’t use the other P word here. Misleading the public is definitely not the same as true leadership.)

Add to that the delays (and added untold cost to the taxpayers) by the said P to put his name on the relief checks. What egotistical bombast! As for his vendetta that now projects the collapse of the U.S. Postal Service? How are those utility bills and credit cards going to be paid? What madness!

We can add the frustration of parts of the public, as we’ve seen in Michigan. But the protests?

Likewise, think of the Wisconsin officials who urged voters not to vote by mail but then did so themselves. While wearing masks.

Hypocrisy rules on the right, never more so than now.

Don’t overlook those who argue that we should put the health of the economy above the health of the people, which fails to acknowledge the crushing economic cost of a full-on pandemic. Pro-life doesn’t end at birth.

At the moment, Covid threatens to constrain our individual pursuit of full life, liberty, and happiness – just listen to those who have come down with heavy symptoms or lost loved ones – but for most of us, it’s a passing cloud.

~*~

Still, the drastic anti-Covid restraints are having some positive impacts.

Look at the numbers of new cases and fatalities and you’ll notice that Coronavirus infections have tempered to an incremental advance rather than an exponential explosion. Huzzah huzzah! Cross our fingers, right? As I write, there are 69 cases in my county, the majority of those in my city, but the county just to our south and west reports 378 cases and the county to our east has four fatalities. That might not sound like much until you consider that there are only 302 hospital beds in my said county, and only a fraction of those are for intensive care. Specific figures for intensive-care beds or ventilators are hard to find, but where I am, I’m guessing we’d be hard-pressed to find more than two dozen. OK, you do the math. Overload approaching.

Personally, I haven’t yet heard of any fatalities involving people I know, but my wife knows one and a longtime friend reports another.The circle grows tighter but is intact.

~*~

Another plus is in the improved air-quality of many of our cities, led by smog-centric Los Angeles itself.

Imagine what would happen if the metropolis shifted totally to electrical and natural-gas transportation? There’s reason to hope.

Oh, yes, and I understand there’s a lot of home baking going on. We can ask how much is bread and how much is cake and how much is something quite different.

~*~

So we do what we can and wait.

How are you and yours faring?

2 thoughts on “As the random blahs kick in

  1. We live in the middle of nowhere in north Georgia in a county that has no hospital at all. That said, we are doing okay, My husband has been an invalid for three years, and I had to quit working in order to take care of him, so we have are used to being at home, but this is different now. We miss the visits from the neighbor children who used to stop by two or three times a week before the virus. My 91-year-old father who is still in relatively good health came for lunch every Sunday after church, and now he can’t come and we can’t go visit him, although we do talk on the phone every day. If he gets sick with this virus, I may never see him again. We are cautious about going to the grocery store and the pharmacy. There is no home delivery of anything where we live (except pizza). But we live in a beautiful setting. I can garden, and I enjoy reading and listening to music and singing. I go out on my front porch every morning and sing to the world even though no one lives close enough to hear me. And I’m grateful for technology that enables us to keep in touch with family and friends and physicians. So we are faring well, all in all.

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