Life in the Time of CoVid-Day 22 Lockdown: Oldsters-No-Sew/No-Seeums-Prom
Friday, April 17: SA Lockdown Day 22; C&K Quarantine Day 7
Worldwide: More than 2,133 million CoVid-19 cases in 177 countries; at least 143,000 people have died.
7 days since we were evacuated from Cape Town, South Africa. The time has gone so quickly—and so slowly. We still aren’t in our home (we’ve let it to a NYC family with 3 small children), so we are still…just …floating… glug-glug. We aren’t alone, searches for “What Day Is It?” have spiked.
According to Psycologists, it’s a side effect of Lockdown. “The sensation is a result of losing social anchors, chronic stress and anxiety, and drastic changes to normal routines.”
Evidently, the need to know the day is so pernicious Cleveland News Anchor Todd Meany made a game show of it. So if you want to know the date google What Day is it Todd Meany? (If you’re like me, however, it’s forever Monday with Todd—makes me laugh!)
Floating is fine, for a time. But, spring is here. None of the painting, cleaning, sorting and organizing—or even mask sewing others are doing for us. No helping with the grandboys or tailgate visits either (as we are still quarantining.)
We just settled into our second “shelter” since arriving, in the village of Branford, CT. Why Branford? Why Connecticut at all? Why not somewhere warm at least? All I can say is we were not in our right minds when we tumbled off the Ethiopian Airlines into Dulles airport, 4:40 am last Friday morning. The sun was still down and so were our brains. Left with orders from the US Embassy in South Africa, to find our own ways to our “final destinations” and “quarantine” all 250 of us scattered. (How “quarantine” and “see ya later” figure in the same scenario is beyond me.)
News Flash! John Krasinski is Hosting a Virtual Prom for 2020 Seniors Tonight! 8:00pm EST/5:00pm PST. Everyone we’re INVITED!
Folks are getting CRANKY . . .The CoVid climate in the Connecticut/NY is frantic compared to South Africa a week ago—at least that’s I’ve witnessed in my 2 grocery runs. Curtis and I didn’t know there was only 1 person per family allowed in a grocery store until we joined a queue soldiered up outside Big Y Branford World Class Market. The line was about 30 people long, each dutifully spaced, minding their own business—we thought…Dang! You should have seen the glares when we took our place, side by side at the back of the line. We’re we dragging toilet paper—or a infected latex gloves—on our shoes? Did Curtis forget his pants? Somehow, Curtis realized or remembered only one person per family is permitted in a store at one time. I mean really, anyone in the line could see we were a couple—we were swathed in matching no-sew T-shirt masks after all. When the line moved, we dutifully split and each claimed a six-foot apart line. However, judging by the headshakes, that wasn’t good enough either. Those around us already knew we were together, they wanted. One. of. Us. To. Leave. Maybe I’m not versed in CoVid virus, so solve this story problem for me:
If there are 20 people allowed in a grocery store at the same time and two of them are “sheltering in place” in the same house, are chances of them infecting others while in the store greater than > less than < or equal to = the chances of 20 people each “sheltering in place” in different houses contaminating others?
I was still trying to solve the equation when a commotion erupted at the front of the line. A stopped, shriveled ancient man had made a horrendous mistake: he had started to enter the store directly! Who did he think he was? That “the line” didn’t begin until a spot between the row of shopping carts and a post—well out of eyesight of the door—made no difference to the Line Monitor/Sanitizer Squirter or those in line. They shot a round of grumbles at the old guy and ceremoniously booted him to the back of the line. The old guy looked at the line, shook his head and shuffled away. We left, too.
On the drive to the Big Y, we’d passed a quaint, old-fashioned looking groceries with heaps of colorful vegetables visible through the door. It was so picturesque I’d pointed it out as we passed. That a lack of lines was what allowed us to see inside hadn’t gone unnoticed, either. Caron’s Corner didn’t judgey-judge us because we shared a cart! And, while the paper/cleaning supply shelves were mostly bare, there were a few stacks of single-roll toilet papers and two packages of paper towels—one for me and one for the lady who snagged one just before me. I did have to sort of six-foot-away shoulder-checked another woman with a distinctly “Let me at those towels!” look in her eyes to get them. Our register total explained everything about the lack of lines in Caron’s Corner…still, we are provisioned up. I promise to tell you no lies and keep my germs to myself. (Thank you Georgia Satellites! ) & See you at the Prom!