We’re approaching the end of our first week of almost total quarantine. I thought I’d list some of the ways in which we’re coping with this.
(Yes, we’re taking this seriously. I gather that some folks are not. Fine. They get sick, it’s on them. They make others sick, it’s on them. We’re not going to do that.)
I drove a car this morning for the first time since Monday, when I cruised into town for a haircut. It will be my last haircut while this is going on. By the time it’s over, I expect to resemble Sasquatch even more than I already do.
My drive this morning involved a trip to the recycle dump here where we live. I needed to get rid of four big bags of wine bottles. It’s an amazing thing. Either they reproduce out there in the recycle box on the deck or some dastardly neighbor is adding to our collection of empty bottles when we’re not looking.
I think it’s the latter. Why do I think that? I think that because the supply of full wine bottles in the rack down in the den seems never to grow.
That nearly unbearable situation will end Monday when we receive a mail-order shipment of wine that won't last long enough.
We just got a big mail-order box of food for Rio and Vivian, our two cats, who seem unperturbed by what’s going on. They’ll be happy as long as they are fed. Should we run out of food and die of starvation, they’ll be quite content, I’m sure, to take bites out of us. Starting, perhaps, with our lips. Revenge, I should think, for all the kisses they get from us.
I think that for now, at least, as long as the supply chains remain healthy, that we are not in danger of starving. We have discovered Instacart, which probably you know about. You shop online and your stuff is delivered to you in a matter of just a couple of hours. As long as you don’t ask for toilet paper.
We’ve discovered something else, too. The restaurant here where we live, which shall remain unnamed to protect the guilty, just announced that it will prepare meals for pickup or delivery.
To this news would we ordinarily exclaim, “Bah! Humbug.” The place has been that dreadful. None of the residents here use it. It stays in business because, I think, it has a captive audience in the form of those who come here for the three golf courses, the hotel, and the convention center.
But a few months ago, a new owner took over. The new owner seems to have hired a new chef and revamped the menu. We are going to give it a try tonight through the pickup-option. Laura and I are optimists, so we do not expect to be poisoned. If we are, I hope it’s not transferrable to the cats when they nibble on our remains.
Nothing at all going on in the world of music. No choir rehearsals, which along with performances, have been canceled. It’s the same everywhere here. Bend is a resort town that is filled with craft breweries and clubs that have live music. The clubs are all closed. The musicians are having a terrible time, as you might imagine. This makes me very sad, but also very happy that I did not major in music when I went to college. That’s what I set out to do. I was dissuaded. That seemed unfortunate at the time. Now I recognize it as an enormous boon, an escape from the jaws of financial death.
From financial death are we saved by the fact that we are old folks who live on a fixed income. That used to be not such a good thing. Now, with so many workplaces closed and so many people laid off, it looks like a very good thing indeed. Isn’t perspective interesting?
The snow nearly is gone from our golf courses, which means that Laura soon will resume one of her favorite pastimes – chasing a little white ball around a lawn. She’s looking forward to that, and to resuming gardening.
The lore here is that planting anything before the snow on Black Butte melts is fruitless. Literally. That will take a few more weeks. But she’ll be out on the course, celebrating golf and spring, soon.
Me, I will celebrate spring my own way. I will pick a little banjo.
If that isn’t a foolproof key to social distancing, I don’t know what is.
Stay safe and well, my friends. Talk all this seriously. You can’t afford not to. I’ll see you all when this is over.
-JFT
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