@W85th

April 9, 2020

I plan and cook three square meals a day. I abstain from sex. I clean my quarters — my toilet sparkles, my counter shines! I use my best penmanship to write notes to people which I then stamp and take to the post box. I search recipes to find something tasty to make out of the beans and tuna which await me in the pantry. I wake up early and thank The Forces that I am alive.

I am:

a) Preparing to enter the convent
b) Trying on the life of a 50s housewife to see if it fits
c) Succeeding beyond anyone’s wildest expectations during my recovery and rehabilitation at a halfway house
d) Living the Covid Days

Perhaps you’ve guessed it right.

These are the days that try a woman’s soul, reminding us of days lived long ago by our mothers and grandmothers. They are days that have reframed what time is. Cliché: time flies when you’re having fun. Corollary: time flies when you’re not having fun. Surprise!

Upon waking, I make a small plan for the day — underscore small. It may include such things as “buy a lemon” or “clean out inbox.” If you are successful at the first, it’s unlikely you will accomplish the second. By the time I decide whether to wear flipflops or slippers, it’s time to scramble an egg for lunch. After I scan the headlines, search for my headset, contemplate re-reading Middlemarch and then slide it back on the shelf, it’s time for cocktails. I have a rule which is to never drink alone. I plan my Zoom cocktail hours with the military precision of the Normandy Invasion. (Would that others who shall remain nameless might learn the same lessons re: planning, logistics, coordination, and execution. But, I digress.)

It’s possible people in my city are going to die when they actually don’t have to. There may not be enough ventilators or medical personnel to meet the expected surge. Meanwhile, as health care workers juggle life and death moments, as my fellow citizens struggle with their last breath, I will remain in a fog — unable to make a difference except by being absent. Not going into the marketplace, not touching, breathing, or sneezing on anyone or anything. And not letting anyone do that to me in return.

These are the Covid Hours, Days, Weeks, and Months. Please, if you read this, send a virtual message in a bottle to the Powers That Be to manage our resources in ways that save the most lives, that stagger deployment to meet geographic needs and then redeploy the resources to the next areas of greatest need.

Today, I will gather my spirits to make a chocolate cake from scratch, something I’ve never done before. May others who are in a position to do so, use their powers to save our great city.

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