Corona. . . Part 2

Skyping, face-timing, googling, hanging out or attempting to connect through the "New Annoying"- the Zoom effect that has reared its many little heads (and all at once!)- takes up a lot of time while you're locking down, much of it frustrating and/or disappointing.  Then there is the recovery from the wretchedness of it all, followed by the vow to quit trying to connect in such ways.

Meanwhile the closets were still sitting there, as if they didn't exist, as if there was no reason to tackle them or think about them, because there really was nothing in 'em. . . .

It became harder to get off the couch 'cause of all the baking, even though, if like me, you were not able to find genuine, not-good-for-you, regular white flour because the shelves were devoid of this along with many other ingredients (suddenly everyone is baking from scratch??) & you had to resort to that pasty, concrete textured, overpriced stuff milled of everything from root vegetables to old shoes. Simply getting out the door each day became another hurdle in itself, an exercise in how to prepare for entry into a deadly germ lab of the type one encounters in sci-fi stories where brave scientists swathed in PPE gear from head to foot venture trepidly* into the microbe abyss. 

Forced now to cook, and in a lilliputian sized kitchen smaller than some people's closets, became a heroic challenge. Yes, it actually imbued a feeling of accomplishment, grit, that is until my worst fears came true. . . . The old fridge I'd been planning never to replace because I was sure it was immortal started vying for attention in a hugely stress causing way. It began slowly, with little puddles of water appearing at its base. I found the first one the morning after a big rain storm and just passed it off to water having blown in through the two inches of open window, even though the fridge was at least six feet feet away. 

When the little puddles began to appear that evening again after I had cleaned them up, I knew there was gonna be trouble. How would I be able to purchase a new appliance when all the stores were closed? Why hadn't I done this years before, and not procrastinated?!? And even if I could manage this online, I was told that the delivery people would not bring anything into my home, but rather leave it "curbside" or "outside the door." Yeah. No problem. I would just say the magic words, drink the potion, become the Hulk-ess or Super Woman, haul it inside, and connect it up. . . .

Just as I was getting ready to tear out what was left of my increasingly wild, unkempt locks, I happened to notice that strangely there also was a puddle at the base of a cabinet, situated a couple of feet away from the fridge; so I opened the cabinet door and lo and behold found the inside flooded, awash with the clearly leaking several gallons of bottled water I had stored in there a long time before- the source of the dreaded leak! And thus the mystery of the puddles was solved and I was elated!!! Never was I to be so thrilled to learn that these porous bottles no doubt leaked plastic into your glass too eventually, and had been doing so for years, because I was so happy to have my fridge back!

A day or two of delirious happiness ensued, pure elation over my water bottles leaking all over the cabinet and onto the floor (water having found its lowest level and pooled near the fridge); it actually became something like a brief "staycation" from worry for a day or two. 

Soon however I resumed my routine, and became more social. People had woken up and started calling, I was doing the same and  spending more time on the phone talking about where to get food and toilet paper and generally commiserating and whining. The novelty of the lock down had worn off and we all were fed up. And so it still goes.

Other activities now include listless internet shopping with no completion; continuing to leave house if at all in rags, saving freshly laundered PJs for dress up. These enterprises alternate with bouts of anger and paranoia about the government, and questions about how come the governor's hair was always so immaculately dyed and coiffed if "we are all in it together!" Huh??? And those news commentators were never looking too shabby either. The hair inequality was, and remains, jarring.

There also are fits of quiet rage about the effect on poor people, on small businesses, on the middle class, on the supply chain, on the economy, on my way of life, on the future; the useless elected officials; the useless everything. As the grief over all the loss progressed, more anger & resentment over politicans, the CDC, everyone on or off TV and the shameless coiffing as seen on the screen took up yet more time.

As of now, I'm still looking for masks and toilet paper far into the night; desperation still lurks even though the hoarded little rolls now are stacked up in the foyer like small, uneven pyramids, while knowing too well I am part of the problem but making no excuses. At least I'm not buying ten thousand dollars worth of hand sanitizer to sell on Amazon. Nonetheless I remain chagrined about having to use Scott paper towels and worse; even Marcal (remember that?) has reared its thinly papered head again, after years in retail Siberia. Where did it come from? Is this ubiquitous reappearance in the toilet paper market even authentic, substandard, knock off tissue??

Oh, and those days spent hearing about truck morgues. . .  were they kidding??!!!??? This decidedly was not how to raise morale. And what about all the recovery "models," ranging anywhere from a year to a lifetime?  C'mon folks!! Still can't bear to hear or utter the word "hair." Continue to wave listlessly to masked strangers I do not recognize when I venture out, even though I have known them for years and/or may even be related to them. Still wondering when and if I can make any plans whatsoever, ever.

There is one thing though. . . .

(Tune in next time to find out, if you can find time, that is. . . 
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*trepidly is just a made up word, a  combination of tepidly and with trepidation; it's fun to make up words during lock down.