Today's news is that the number of deaths from the Coronavirus here in the United States have exceeded the number of people who died in the 9/11 attacks: more that 3400. That threshold marks a turning point for me in terms of news consumption. I have to cut back. I'm not sure what is to be gained from learning more each day. It's so tempting to get sucked into reading, listening, watching for hours on end, but for right now, we know what's coming. There won't be any real breaking news. Just more and bigger numbers and statistics. For me, no more reading during breaks from sleep. No more listening to NPR in the morning. It's hard to break the latter habit because it is so automatic for me to start my day with the soothing voices of Morning Edition. But it's only sets an unfortunate tone for the day. I'm not so naive as to think that I won't read any news. But I need less. Music. More music. Bob Marley and his three little birds. Every little thing gonna be alright . . .
This was a big day in other ways, too. I went on an carefully choreographed adventure to the garden center. I was starting to get so obsessed with the daily growth of my pet scallion that I decided it was necessary to branch out. I have never been particularly focused on plants, but lately I have reminded myself of both my mother and Maude: "I like to watch things grow." So to celebrate the first day of the Stay-At-Home order, I left the house. Apparently the garden center counts as essential as they are an agricultural business, so they get to keep operating. It was tense to be near others even though I was properly far enough. It had that feeling of expecting to be robbed. Another customer smiled at me from 10 feet away, and I felt a snarl cross my face before I forced a return smile.
I walked outside through the rows of plants. wearing rubber gloves, pulling a cart, patiently waiting for other people to finish picking out their plants before I selected what I wanted. "Select" might not be the right word. as the process was similar to my binge at Trader Joe's two weeks ago. I grabbed a bunch of herbs, a couple of tomato plants, and some flowers. Then I scurried away toward the checkout, where I stepped away from my cart while the clerk scanned my pots. I pushed my credit card toward the clerk across a counter and went on my way. I have no idea how much I spent; it was worth it.
I also stopped at S's house to pick up some groceries he had bought for me and to visit at a distance with my 98-year-old friend who continues to stubbornly go to the store despite my admonitions. When I got home during Noon Zoom, another friend, R, came by to say hi. Another conversation at a distance. It is so nice to see the people I love, but in some ways, it emphasizes the distance. It feels achy not to hug them.
This was a big day in other ways, too. I went on an carefully choreographed adventure to the garden center. I was starting to get so obsessed with the daily growth of my pet scallion that I decided it was necessary to branch out. I have never been particularly focused on plants, but lately I have reminded myself of both my mother and Maude: "I like to watch things grow." So to celebrate the first day of the Stay-At-Home order, I left the house. Apparently the garden center counts as essential as they are an agricultural business, so they get to keep operating. It was tense to be near others even though I was properly far enough. It had that feeling of expecting to be robbed. Another customer smiled at me from 10 feet away, and I felt a snarl cross my face before I forced a return smile.
I walked outside through the rows of plants. wearing rubber gloves, pulling a cart, patiently waiting for other people to finish picking out their plants before I selected what I wanted. "Select" might not be the right word. as the process was similar to my binge at Trader Joe's two weeks ago. I grabbed a bunch of herbs, a couple of tomato plants, and some flowers. Then I scurried away toward the checkout, where I stepped away from my cart while the clerk scanned my pots. I pushed my credit card toward the clerk across a counter and went on my way. I have no idea how much I spent; it was worth it.
I also stopped at S's house to pick up some groceries he had bought for me and to visit at a distance with my 98-year-old friend who continues to stubbornly go to the store despite my admonitions. When I got home during Noon Zoom, another friend, R, came by to say hi. Another conversation at a distance. It is so nice to see the people I love, but in some ways, it emphasizes the distance. It feels achy not to hug them.
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