Four Months Later
I was going to title this post “Plague of Nations,” but that sounded so heavy-handed, and I just read an intense novel that depressed me even more, so I’ll simply mention that that phrase has been rolling around in my head, while leaving the actual title a mere account of passed time.
Toilet paper is back! For now. In the meantime, we got two different bidet attachments, and we have plenty of cloths and rags and socks and we know how to do laundry so really the tp situation was never as dire in this household as it was in others. My number one concern was always human food, which must be specified because the next concern in importance was cat food, both of which we have now, in abundance, thanks in large part to our weekly farmshare. I have pickled and frozen so many vegetables, y’all.
The Quarantimes have been very strange. For the first month, it was like an adventure, figuring out how to navigate new roles in new spaces on an ever-changing schedule. Setting up my WFH station with increasingly sturdier and more permanent fixtures as time passed. Then, in one week in April, our cat was diagnosed with kidney failure and given 2 weeks to live, my grandfather died, I had my wedding anniversary where the first thing that happened was our Alaska cruise to celebrate husband’s 40th birthday was canceled and the last thing that happened was that husband broke my favorite wine glass from Sweden and in between was a lot of little things going wrong. Was Mercury in retrograde? Who can remember? If you told me that Merc-Ret has been ongoing since early March and hasn’t ceased, I would believe you. Such are the Quarantimes!
I honestly don’t remember a single minute of May.
In June, all the shows and concerts we had tickets for that were postponed a little rescheduled to be postponed A LOT. I canceled a hair appointment because the salon wasn’t requiring everyone to wear a mask, then was told two days later that one of the stylists tested positive for covid. We canceled our dentist appointments and when they rushed to explain how they’re keeping clients safe, we said we hadn’t been feeling well lately and didn’t want to take a chance and OH how quickly they agreed that we shouldn’t come in!
A few weeks ago, our kitty succumbed to his illness, but we had three times as much time with him as the vet predicted we’d have back in April, so we’re grateful for that. It’s been very sad. And now today, JoCo Cruise announced that they’re moving the March 2021 sailing to March 2022 and I feel like an asshole saying this but the cruise being canceled might be the worst thing that’s happened so far in July? Listen. We’d been preparing for kitty to leave us for months, and his memory is going to stay with us for years. But JCC was the only vacation we had planned that wasn’t canceled (in the last year, 5 of my 6 travel plans have been canceled, and oh look now it’s ALL BUT ONE in a 2-year period), and it was the bright star of hope leading me through this terrible year. I may have had to wait 8 months from now for my next normal-feeling and fun endeavor, but at least I had a firm date, it was already paid for, and it was within a year. Now it’s a 20 month wait and, uhhhnnnnng, what’s even tethering me here anymore? Why shouldn’t I go full-on Yellow Wallpaper and just give in and be insane?
This isn’t a criticism of JoCo Cruise; I’ve been wondering the past few weeks if we should cancel our booking, since it doesn’t look like any of the government people in national leadership positions actually intend to, you know, lead. JCC made the right call and we’ll definitely be there in 2022, and I swear everyone is going to be partying like it’s the 1920s and we all just feel lucky to be alive. But those 20 empty months before that happens? Oof. It hurts, kids.
And it’s not like we can really commit to any kind of lifestyle change or other kind of goal during that time, because our knowledge of the virus and the risk-level of certain behaviors can change, and probably will change, a number of times in the next few years. That’s not to say we shouldn’t make *any* goals. I mean, I stopped eating refined sugar and my headaches stopped right along with them, for the most part. But much of my joy comes from travel, and planning that travel, and checking off the places I travel to on my goal list, so I’m staring down the next 20 months and it’s mostly empty and…what do I do with myself?
This is mostly a rhetorical question. I have some plans. I have some ideas for things that might end up eventually becoming plans. I have my job, and with the help of husband we’ve made it WFH indefinitely/permanently. I have the books on my syllabi and to-read list, and learning more Swedish for whenever this living hell of a decade vomits us on the other side and I can finally visit Sweden.
Four months later, and things are mostly worse, a few things stayed the same, and even fewer have improved. I also think wasps have moved into the grill. But I’ll look into that on Monday. I have time.