It’s been more than 70 days. Over ten weeks. Coming up on three months of our lives. This shit is crazy.
Like everyone, I am itchy and as well as cautiously optimistic that life is moving towards remote normalcy. Businesses are reopening. People are venturing out. A vaccine (plural??) looks promising. These are good signs, and I hope all goes well.
As for me, I still swing wildly from extremes. While my general fear has abated, I remain obsessive about wearing a mask and gloves, wiping down groceries and avoiding people. In short, I do most of the things you’re supposed to, though I feel like I do them imperfectly (I wear gloves but them take them off to use my phone. Or I hold Parker’s mudgy little hand in my gloved hand, which theoretically could be teeming with virus.).
I also swing from coping magnificently to wanting to just curl up, by myself, in bed for days. This past week was one of those weeks – a malaise that was as physical as it was emotional. Heavy body, heavy heart. Indifference and annoyance. I try as much as I can to focus on the positive as well as the very near term. Almost every good thing about this quarantine is countered by a negative.
Together time - Being home non-stop with Andrew and Parker has confirmed how much I love them. And I am so grateful for that. I can’t imagine living with someone – friend, partner, spouse – that drives you crazy. It’s own special kind of hell. I delight in spending so much time with Parker. She is pure sunshine 96% of the time, so I feel lucky to be attached at the hip (though I fear we’re both going to be in for some wicked separation anxiety at the other end of this).
No solo time - The flip side is the lack of solo time. As much as I love them, I’ve always been an introvert and protector of having time and space for myself. That happens so rarely now. I do get out for a walk a few mornings a week, I do the grocery run on my own, and sometimes I’ll cut out for an hour or so. But I crave the luxury of just being alone. No agenda. No noise. No one’s presence. Just sweet solitude.
Eating really well – No Quarantine Fifteen in our apartment. I have to say, we are eating pretty well. Lots of grains and veg. I do bake every week or two as well as order cookies every few weeks, and I always have a few squares of chocolate at night, but otherwise we are super austere. It makes you realize how indulgent restaurant food really is.
Missing my sweets – It feels good to be healthy. But man, do I miss my cream-oozing croissants, ridiculously overweight cookies, densely packed pancakes and bombastic muffins. (trip down memory lane at @GodILoveParis)
See trees more clearly – When I go for walks through Prospect Park, I marvel at the trees. Just walking down the street, I feel like I pay more attention to flower beds and the way trees grow. I see and hear birds more clearly. It sounds cliché, but it’s true, and I love it.
Fear for the environment more than ever - I know, I know – blue skies over cities! Animals coming out in full force! Emissions down dramatically! These are all glorious things, to be sure. But what of the plastic bag ban that went into effect in NYC on March 1, only to be quickly discarded? The eradication of composting, and what that means for methane emissions? All those plastic containers that people are snatching up everything from spinach to crackers in because it’s more sanitary? Myself included! Gah.
Another thing I take solace in is my podcasts, and I’m thrilled Cheryl Strayed is back (Sugar Calling) - just hearing her voice soothes me. In one podcast, she said that people like me - in relative privilege - have one simple job: to remain strong. I think that’s fair, and that’s what I’m trying to do.