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!
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Life in the Time of CoVid-Day 18 Lockdown: Get A Grip
April 13, 2020-Day 18 of SA Lockdown: Day 3 US “Self-Isolation”
US: “Daily death toll has dropped; more than 560,000 CoVid cases—number of cases slower Saturday & Sunday
Returning brings with it another question: Where to go?
Do we return home, home to our comfortable, safe haven while possibly contaminated with CoVid virus? (Not an option as refugees from NYC are there.) Do we hunker down in NY—the epicenter of CoVid-19 horror with more cases than China? Fly onto Alaska, with only 272 Covid Cases, to quarantine there and then see the kids? Or hunker down in a cozy room wiht a kitchenette?
By the time evacuation day came, Curtis and I weren’t worried we were contagious. (99.2% certain anyway.) We’d been in seclusion for 14 days—14 since we’d flown in from Port Elizabeth, hopped a cab & knocked on the door of Manderley Lodge. We were fairly certain none of the other evacuees were either. (We all wore masks & kept our distance—which included not talking—which is odd, weird, uncharacteristic for Americans, tourists & otherwise.)
Plenty of space, right?
While awaiting evacuation, I fixated on the idea of renting an RV. Why?
We could sanitize the heck out of it.
Clean, prepare, store our own food.
Park some lovely isolated space—say Walmart or Starbucks parking lot.
Teach everyone the Happy Cell song! (Video below)
Watch a Chair Yoga Recital
Use our 14 days of post-flight quarantine in some deserted—if cold, snowy even—campgrounds…or rest areas & truck stops. By the time CoVid is eradicated, we’d be somewhere: Connecticut, Texas, Michigan …Alaska. Alaska! Yes!…no. Curtis pointed out the Canadian border was closed.
Map places to donate plasma once it’s confirmed we’re among the 85% who get CoVid-19 & Never know it! (Michigan will take it!)
We’d done fine cooped up in a tiny space so far. Options were endless…(I’m not the only one who thinks so; check out this article on the merits of RVing post CoVid.
Yeah right…who was I kidding?
On the drive from Washington D.C. to Connecticut we had to pull off 4 time just to go to the bathroom. Why? Restaurants are closed. Some gas stations have closed their toilets. Fast-food drive-through doors were locked. locked. locked. locked. (We didn’t try crawling in through the take-out window.)
Lockdown in South Africa and “Social Distancing” in the states are not the same. I’d been reading and hearing about neighborhood pizza-parties on the porch; Heart and Rainbow hunts through the neighborhood; grandparents and friends tailgating during birthday parties. Even casual walks around sounded divine. Freedom! So, in my mind, the idea of us getting to see Lexi, Ryan & the grandboys—even from the socially safe distance of 6 feet, sounded divine.
It was horrible! Horrible! Dylan, at 5, knows the CoVid rules. (Aiden, at 2? We didn’t even try…he can’t even watch Bapak on the phone without giving the screen kisses—we stayed away until Lexi called that he was napping.)
Knowing rules and sticking to them is hard. And definitely makes conversation—and visits awkward. Especially when you want to show Mimi & Bapak your newest trick, or claim your usual snuggle. Our tailgate meeting lasted about 5 minutes. Delusions of casually stop by to watch them hunt eggs, dashed, we beat it out of town.
After the 20 plus hours plane ride and a 7-hour drive, we were too bleary-eyed to think. So, we booked into a Residence Inn near Fairfield (we’d left our car at Lexi & Ryan’s) to get some rest and figure out the next step. But….half an hour before we arrived, someone from the Residence Inn called to be sure we brought Government papers. Government Papers? She went on to explain that as all non-essential travel had been banned, we had to show proof that our travel was “essential.” Evidently, 300 plus people let off at Dulles to “find our own ways” back to safely quarantine required Scotty from the Star Ship Enterprise.
So, back to the RV! Yeah! I was stoked…Curtis was silent. (Silent for Curtis is not unusual) nor is it a “No.” So I got busy finding where we’d travel in our RV. The question I should have been checking is not where should we go? The question I should have asked is: Where Can We Park the RV?
I finally checked the U.S. Campground Closure List:
Nationwide: All U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (COE) managed campgrounds have begun an orderly shutdown. Likewise, visitor centers, beaches, special events, etc.
Driving restrictions: A shelter-in-place order is in effect for all but essential activities. Any person coming into Connecticut by any mode of transportation is strongly urged to self-quarantine for 14 days.
Hotels: Lodging for leisure, vacation and other nonessential purposes is prohibited.
New Jersey county, city and utility managed campgrounds, State Parks &Forest campgrounds, restrooms, etc. are also all temporarily closed.
New York State Park campgrounds are closed.
All Hawaii State Parks and campgrounds will be closed until further notice. (A girl can dream.)
All this is to say: 1. We are not camping. 2. We are not glamping in an RV. 3. We are not in our cozy home. 4. We are somewhere in Conn. at a destination that will remain secret just in case the powers that be come looking for us.
And…I did get Curtis to try the Gentle Chair Yoga. He liked it…Well, he said he’d do it again, anyway.
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So, now that we’re settled—2 days into quarantine, what am I doing to keep busy? Recital practice begins at 5:00 pm!