Two months into the COVID-19 shutdown. Panics over toilet paper and flour are over. Life has settled down to tedium; standing in line even for 10 minutes is boring, and not being able to buy a new toilet seat or a small hardware item is tiresome; it’s not always possible to get the appropriate item without browsing a store. I hate crowds, but stores with almost no shoppers are depressing. We ordered and paid for new blinds. They’ve been ready for weeks, but we are not ready to let an installer into our home.
But the initial scare is over and life for most people goes on, albeit with worry, annoyances, financial woes and sacrifices.
As a person of “a certain age” I’m told I’m more vulnerable to this infection than most and have to be especially careful. This is concerning, but I’m reasonably fit and healthy and I miss camping, kayaking, dancing, and volunteering. I feel somewhat useless and although I have plenty of things to do around the house, it’s hard to get motivated because there is an eternity stretching ahead, through the winter and even into the summer of 2021…lots of time to do these things! Perhaps this is what being filthy rich is like. You can do anything anytime, but there’s no need to do anything at all. No purpose. Life is on hold.
I miss my friends, my children, step grandchildren, and colleagues. On the plus side I’m not spending nearly as much money. My gas tank is still half full six weeks after I last bought fuel and my credit card statement is a pleasant surprise. We started a tiny vegetable plot in our condo patio garden. And my will is now up to date.