I count my days. I count them here on this blog. I count them in a journal of morning pages that I'm keeping. I count them on my optimistic daily schedule that I write and share each my friend B each day. I count them on a food log on my kitchen counter that I keep with the vague idea that I may start eating fewer calories if I write them down. I'm not sure why the number of days is so important because I don't anticipate breaking my quarantine any time soon, but I guess day 14 is particularly meaningful because I have been separated from the world for the length of the incubation period and haven't developed Coronavirus. I could safely go visit my parents at this point if they needed me.
Last night before bed, I checked idly to see when I could get food delivered to me via Peapod, and all of the slots were taken for the next two weeks. There were no times listed beyond that. So when I woke up at 2:30 am, the first thing on my mind was to try to capture one of the slots that had just opened up at midnight. Success! I am officially slated to get groceries on Saturday, April 11. Fortunately, I have until April 10 to make changes to my cart. I browsed "the aisles" sleepily with my head on the pillow. It seemed slightly better than waking up in the middle of the night to read about people dying or losing their businesses or their minds, which is what I have been doing. Reading, I mean. Not mind losing. Though maybe some of that, too.
Today I went for a drive to CVS. Put the top down on the yellow bug in the warm weather. Put on my ridiculous yellow flowered sunglasses. Put on some music. And then started to cry. Tears falling out of the flowers. I'm not sure why that little drive was the breaking point, but it was. The car moved so quickly; I hadn't driven in many days. And when I pulled up in the drive thru of the CVS, I didn't even laugh when I realized I was still wearing the glasses while I talked to the employee. It was stressful to be there, choreographing every move to be careful not to touch anything. She was about four and a half feet away from me, through the open window, talking and handing me things. When she had completed the transaction, she tried to hand me a clipboard, a clipboard, with a pen for me to sign. I just stared at it.
"You want me to touch that?:
She nodded apologetically.
"Here? At the drive thru of CVS?
"Yes," she said."
"Are you serious?"
The pharmacist behind her nodded, too. Then the pharmacist offered, "We can sign it for you if you want."
I nodded and doused my hands, the bag, the credit cards with Purell before driving off. I resumed crying. I thought about going somewhere to park and walk, but I couldn't think of anywhere I wanted to be that I was allowed to be. So I went home and walked there and tried to distract myself by listening to old David Sedaris and found a dandelion and blew on it and made a wish.
--
This is a beautiful article about life in quarantine.
--
Last night before bed, I checked idly to see when I could get food delivered to me via Peapod, and all of the slots were taken for the next two weeks. There were no times listed beyond that. So when I woke up at 2:30 am, the first thing on my mind was to try to capture one of the slots that had just opened up at midnight. Success! I am officially slated to get groceries on Saturday, April 11. Fortunately, I have until April 10 to make changes to my cart. I browsed "the aisles" sleepily with my head on the pillow. It seemed slightly better than waking up in the middle of the night to read about people dying or losing their businesses or their minds, which is what I have been doing. Reading, I mean. Not mind losing. Though maybe some of that, too.
Today I went for a drive to CVS. Put the top down on the yellow bug in the warm weather. Put on my ridiculous yellow flowered sunglasses. Put on some music. And then started to cry. Tears falling out of the flowers. I'm not sure why that little drive was the breaking point, but it was. The car moved so quickly; I hadn't driven in many days. And when I pulled up in the drive thru of the CVS, I didn't even laugh when I realized I was still wearing the glasses while I talked to the employee. It was stressful to be there, choreographing every move to be careful not to touch anything. She was about four and a half feet away from me, through the open window, talking and handing me things. When she had completed the transaction, she tried to hand me a clipboard, a clipboard, with a pen for me to sign. I just stared at it.
"You want me to touch that?:
She nodded apologetically.
"Here? At the drive thru of CVS?
"Yes," she said."
"Are you serious?"
The pharmacist behind her nodded, too. Then the pharmacist offered, "We can sign it for you if you want."
I nodded and doused my hands, the bag, the credit cards with Purell before driving off. I resumed crying. I thought about going somewhere to park and walk, but I couldn't think of anywhere I wanted to be that I was allowed to be. So I went home and walked there and tried to distract myself by listening to old David Sedaris and found a dandelion and blew on it and made a wish.
--
This is a beautiful article about life in quarantine.
--
No comments:
Post a Comment