When your 26-year old son forwards this tweet and says he’s canceling out on a home-cooked meal, because he’s worried he might infect you, it’s time to rethink. Who can come over? Where can I go? Who can I have contact with? What can I touch?
YESTERDAY: In the morning two friends come over – one hugs, the other does not. Should they have even come over? Do I now need to wipe down all surfaces they touched? One was in Europe last week – yikes. The other just returned from a cruise – bigger yikes! We all seem healthy. We temporarily suspend anxiety about the outside world. It feels cozy and safe in this house stocked with ample toilet paper. What could go wrong?
By evening, the family meal has been canceled and an invitation to a friend to watch the debate has been withdrawn. I can sense the fun fizzling out of my life. I read some more “Flatten the Curve” articles from various doctor friends to bolster my resolve. Data doesn’t always stir the spirit. Serious negotiations have commenced with my better Lenten self about the alcohol and sugar abstinence regimen. Lent is getting heavier than I had bargained for. It occurs to me that “Man makes plans and God laughs”.
TODAY: The morning darkness beckons me to my workout class. I make a painful decision to not go. Being in the first wave of visitors is no match for a pesky virus that could still be lurking on equipment from the day before – who knows. A bike ride outside will have to suffice – maybe it will even be better.
A look ahead to the week, shows a calendar full of canceled events. A couple are replaced by ZOOMs but there’s too much white space there for my soul.
I think I’ll restart my blogging. So welcome!
The Coronaviary 