The Numbness of Quarantine

There is a numbing monotony to each day.  I wake up and think every day is Sunday.  A day that stretches out before you with nothing to fill it. I'm not a church-goer so I don't have a virtual service to occupy me — though CBS Sunday Morning is my ritual.  I used to eagerly arise before 9 to make my coffee and breakfast before sitting down to watch Charles Kuralt, then Charles Osgood, and now, Jane Pauley.  I find comfort in its easy-going, informative, balanced mix of news, human-interest, and now, Covid-related stories.  They present the best and the worst of us in a palatable way that early in one's day.  Lately I set it to record because I don't want to wake up early.  Once the 90 minutes is over, then what?

Yes, I am structuring some of my time.  I Zoom with my quartet of Random House buddies twice a week for virtually two hours a visit.  It's great to see them and talk about this, that, and the other things, just as we did over 45 years ago over salad and baked chicken or tuna noodle casserole, mostly in Barbara's apartment. There we were, in our twenties, around her dining room table, sharing the ups, downs, puzzles and gifts of our lives. We're in our late 60s now and while the problems have changed, the challenges haven't.  Though now short on husbands, we each have our issues: with our lives, our adult children, and this pandemic.  It makes my life easier to have dear friends to commiserate with when things go wrong and cheer each other on when things go right.

Another quartet — of my college friends — has begun to Zoom weekly, but all four of us haven't been in close contact over the decades so it's more of a reacquaintance with one another.  I'm happy we've been able to "get together" despite being in four opposite corners of the country.

Yes, I'm taking an online class: Rodgers & Hammerstein — wonderfully taught, interesting and informative, and highly entertaining with clips of their wealth of songs from Oklahoma to Carousel, The King & I, and more...but it's just 75 minutes once a week and soon to end.

Unlike the industrious types, I have not cleaned a single closet.  Betsy is working her way through decades of memorabilia ("I'm in the 80s now!") happy to have the uninterrupted time to devote to reorganizing, sending along, clearing out her lifetime of papers and memories.  Or Laura who's been going through all her costume jewelry and that of her mother, grandmother, and Aunt Marion, to keep what's most dear and to get rid of the rest — some of it to me to dissect and use in a project I'm working on (haha).  I have no motivation to act.  Doing nothing is exhausting.

My kitchen is strewn (for a month now) with plastic bins filled with my summer clothing, waiting for the packing up of winter to make way in the drawers and closet.  Instead of making the shift, I just keep sifting through, pulling out what I need for the day and leaving the rest in disarray.  The dryer is filled with clean clothes for a week.  The dishwasher, run but not emptied, leads to the pile-up of dirty dishes and pots and pans crowding my double sinks.  The only thing I can motivate myself to do is cook, which involves shopping for groceries and lots of prep and then more dirty cookware and utensils.  Cooking the food makes me happy enough, but then I realize it's only me there to eat it.  I've forgotten that my pleasure in cooking comes from the communal eating, the sharing.  Yes, I do share.  I pack up and drop off to assorted family and friends, and occasionally eat together distanced outside, but then the weather must cooperate or else it's back to my home alone.

My dear best friend, my constant partner ... the TV.

As a child I was always frightened to be alone in the house.  My parents worked twelve hours a day and to allay my fear, to comfort me, I had the TV on constantly.  Being young I actually thought that when I turned on the television our living room was filled with company. It soothed me then, stayed with me through my single life, and once again, accompanies me now.   I rely on the old stand-bys: The Forsyte Saga, Friday Night Lights, The Americans, Downton Abbey, The West Wing — and newer ones: The Great British Baking Show, 13 Reasons Why, Counterpart — because watching them brings me in contact with a family.  They may not be my family, they may be a work family or a foreign family but they're families none the less and I crave being a part of some human connection.  Even though it's make-believe, I retreat into watching a screen more hours than I can count, the number of which would surely appall you.

Given my age I have been forgetful but now I'm in a fog. I never know what day it is.  I can't stick to any one thing.  I keep meaning to do things and don't.

Things are opening up.  There is even a thrift store open and one of my favorites is opening Tuesday but I'm very hesitant to go inside.  And the thrift store I've shopped in since living here almost 30 years and volunteered in for almost eight, I just learned will never re-open.  It makes sense.  Given the store's layout and the nature of the largely volunteer-driven business model, it would be too difficult to refit, socially distance, increase cleaning, and still make the expenses, let alone a profit and profit is what we are in business for.  Our proceeds fund $1M in medical and nursing scholarships a year.  Yes, you read that correctly, one million.  All because 52 years ago a group of medical wives decided to raise money and endow a scholarship fund to help those who wanted to become doctors.

Their endowment will live on thankfully, but I have lost yet another connection.  A place where I not only shopped but ran to as a refuge.  Whenever I was feeling down, alone, I'd get in my car, drive over and start marking or checking out customers for a few hours, surrounded by a bevy of women who were always welcoming and cared about me. 

                  "How was your visit with your daughter?" 

                             "What did the doctor say about the upcoming knee replacement?" 

                       "You marked that whole basket already?  MY!  You're fast!" 

It was a place to go to lift my spirits, be surrounded by activity, and feel as if I were contributing something of value.  I could even get a hug if I wanted.  Now, that door is closed.  Permanently.

Thankfully I have group therapy once a week and individual every other week via Zoom; these sessions are keeping me sane.  None answer the questions that swirl around and around in my head when I should be sleeping:

"Will I ever feel safe to go about without a mask and gloves?"

"Will I ever travel again, see New York?"

"Will I ever spoon in bed with another human being?"

I know there are no answers at this moment,  but I'm just so tired of pondering the questions in isolation. 

The Unexpected Benefits of Quarantine

While being shut-in affects each of us differently — I long for my thrift-store outings — and there are deprivations, clearly there are those whose adjustment to quarantine is less traumatic.  For those who spent most of their day at home previously, this time is not that different.  

The Homebound

These are people who normally work from home, who have a physical situation that keeps them within their apartment or house, or those who may even fear the outside world.  They might miss the occasional venture outside, but they are coping with life that is much as they have known it. 

The Introverts

These are the people who prefer their own company to that of others.  They can and do enjoy people but actually like being with themselves and feel perfectly satisfied to engage in solo activities that require no one else.  Reading, writing, gardening, hiking, woodworking, painting, composing — all of these, and more, bring satisfaction without the need for others.

The Driven

These are those out-there-in-the-universe players who work hard and are constantly on the go.  Academics, social bees, Type-A personalities all are used to a driving pace that has them active and committed most of every day, sometimes day and night.  Now, with their calendars forcibly wiped clean there comes either a drift toward anxiety or a glide into great peace.  A freedom to be at home and relish their yards or their kitchens.  An expanse of time to spend with their families in a way they did not have room for before.  

I suspect when this pandemic is over there will be a new normal for many.  

There will be those that won't want to give up their new-found calm and ability to take pleasure in small things and more quiet pastimes.  Others will argue that they were perfectly capable of doing their jobs from their living rooms and don't need to always make that long commute day-in and day-out.  Many will have a greater appreciation for and understanding of connections with family and friends that will no longer want them to take a backseat to the continual demands of work.

Some will even rethink their physical place in the world.  I have a few friends who can't imagine going back to their lives out in their city because they can't picture anything being "normal" again.

With Passover and Easter behind us, and now that we have our new experience with a distanced celebration of these holidays, I find myself grateful. 

Despite divorce and separate households for all four of us, during this time of global crisis we have come together once again — to eat what I have prepared (and complained about as I overcooked the lamb!), to play charades or Jeopardy, to listen to music, and to tell jokes and stories that made us laugh — all at an appropriate distance.

When the quarantine is gone, I am confident and grateful that these gifts will remain.

No, I did not grow these but thank my friend Nancy for this gift of beauty...

The End of the Cheerios

If you've read Thrift (and you should cause it's one of my best!), you know I come from a Depression-mentality household.  For all my life, I have known a well-stocked — well, let's be honest — OVERstocked pantry.  Be it a closet or a cabinet or both, I always have a significant supply of bottled, boxed, canned, or dry goods and am capable of feeding many, should the situation arise.  If twelve people unexpectedly appeared on my doorstep and I (or anyone else) couldn't feed them, it would be a black mark you could not escape.  

For the rest of your life it would be,

"Remember when so-and-so stopped over and she didn't have enough food?" 

This is how I was raised.

Ironically, I married in to a family where this was not the case.  It was the very opposite.   My introduction to my eventual mother-in-law was a dinner she hosted with five people and on the table was a bowl with five — only FIVE potatoes — and they weren't even big ones!  I don't know that I ever got over that shock.  It may have made me increase my stock of staples.



Today, in the time of Corona, I finished all the Cheerios.


I ALWAYS have Cheerios.  They're a basic.  

I buy the family size.

I mix them with one or two other cereals to dress them up.

And while three other cereal bags still remain (each less than 1/3 full) to be eaten, 

and I certainly don't eat cereal every week, 

AND I don't even have any milk, it points to the greater issue.  

My stock is diminishing.  I am seeing the back wall and space on my shelves for the first time.   
Maybe ever.

 

I know, I know.  This looks like a lot.  And I'm only one person.  And yes, it IS a lot and I am truly grateful for the abundance I'm so fortunate to have.





Still, day by day, it's shrinking.

        
I started to make cold sesame noodles — no peanut butter! 

And there's only angel hair pasta. [Yes, I see the box of penne rigate but that's really not an option for cold sesame noodles.]

             
Thought about whipping up some hummus — only one can of garbanzo beans!


Wanted to bake some peach-bourbon barbecued chicken thighs.  Not only was there no bourbon, there were NO preserves of ANY kind.


I just used one of the last two cans of tuna.  And they're not even the big ones.

GEEZ.

All I can say is...

My father 

is turning over 

in his grave.

Where Has All My Focus Gone?

In this time of Corona, I lack focus. I meander through the day without any purposeful plan.  I'm grateful if I have a Zoom get-together or plan a walk with a friend or organize a meal with my family — all at a distance.  These small things give me something to look forward to and focus on.

But what about the rest of the day?  What about all the directives that say how important it is to make and stick to a routine?  Why am I having trouble doing that?

I'm a list maker.  There is nothing so satisfying as making a list and then crossing stuff off of it.  And when I do something that's not on the list, I add it on and cross it off because I love the way that it looks and how it makes me feel; as if I've been accomplishing.

You would think I'd be making my lists.  The way I always do.

But I'm not.

Lord knows there are plenty of projects to do in my house...

Clean out that closet. (ALL the closets!)

Straighten out ALL the jewelry.

Switch out the winter clothes and bring the spring/summer ones in.




And start that BIG project you've been thinking about. (That's another story.)













But it's just not happening.  

I had a productive hour a while ago.  Told myself to turn off the 27th rerun of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire and I actually folded all the laundry piled up on my bed and put it all away AND made the bed for the first time in more than a week. Tonight I will not be sleeping among the clean clothes. [I just want to say those pillowcases actually match better than they appear.]

But my productivity doesn't last.  Seems I'm not the only one.

I hear about this malaise, lack of focus, from just about everyone.  And while there's clearly a minority of those who are making the most of this time at home, even able to enjoy their isolation (that's another story), for many it's a rocky, rocky road.

The readers can't read, 

                           the writers can't write, and 

                                                               the artists aren't creating.

The things that usually bring us pleasure, escape us in this time of Corona.

To all of you who are housebound, we will find our focus. 

And most fortunately... at least the gardeners are out there thriving.

--------------------------

PS All is not lost. I did finish the puzzle and here she be...

Back to the Jigsaw

I guess I'm ahead of the curve — CBS Sunday Morning had a feature about people dragging out their jigsaw puzzles during this time of quarantine. A few days before I'd finished my first 1000-piece puzzle in a very long time.   My stash is behind the couch.

There's a rhythm with puzzles.  Or at least there is for me.  You find all the straight edges and get your frame. Then you find some chunk to work on that's visually unique — for me it was the stripes.






Next, things start to take shape and you get more chunks done.








Then come the hard parts, where's really tough to fill in the areas that all look the same...  




But in the end, SUCCESS.  You've done it.  And this puzzle was a double whammy because it was like those I Spy books where the images were of  other things...90 other things, for example, the slats in the chairs are Milk Bone dog biscuits and that radiator next to the fridge is comprised of stubby Number 2 pencils — you get the picture. 

Our family has always done puzzles and when the kids were young we'd actually 
spray adhesive the completed puzzle on foam core and hang them on the walls.  

As an adult I've done some 
that are more Americana...

and others that are Biblical in image and difficulty.

                                                                   

Virtually all of my puzzles come from thrift stores and don't cost more than $2.  

I especially appreciate the former owners who leave a post-it inside that says, "Missing three pieces" 

It is a great kindness.

I don't let those missing pieces bother me in the least.

Some are fun and frivolous ...

   

...and others I just admire in the store and think about doing...but won't spend the money on.  (Though anything by Edward Gorey is awful tempting.)










Now I'm working on a puzzle that was a gift from my ex...and boy, is it a challenge; it's the front page of The New York Times on the day I was born.




This one's got a lot of hard parts — sigh — 

Good thing I've got all the time in the world to read all that teeny-tiny print...

In the Time of Corona

I can't imagine how many people are are probably using that title or thinking about their lives in terms of this virus that has captured the attention of the world by wreaking upon us a global crisis.

It troubles me that even this, this which is devastating populations and disrupting life the way we knew it, still hasn't mobilized the world, the country to work together.

I always have these big ideas that don't go anywhere because I'm not in charge.  I have long thought that our government should have had the forethought to establish regional coalitions of public and private entities who were organized to respond to natural and human-made disasters.  Partnerships that detailed what would be done by whom and how  in concert with one another.  Then when disaster strikes, as it will and does, we would be prepared and working together.

I heard that Belgium shut down its restaurants and bars but the Netherlands did not, so people just crossed the border to have their beer and party.   And the virus followed.

Honestly, I'm not sure what day I started keeping to myself and limiting my contact with others.  I remember beginning to be aware of things the week of March 9.  I continued to do some things with people, perhaps more carefully, but not with distancing.

My son was the one who insistently sounded the alarm with me and his father. He kept at it and got his father to work from home a week before it became the norm.  He financially stepped up to get his sister out of New York City and back home.  And he stipulated she'd have to stay with him and away from us for two weeks because she'd been to Mardi Gras and NYC, both hotspots.  I am so grateful to him for his persistence in getting his family members to treat this situation seriously.

Sheltering-in-place is particularly difficult when you are an extrovert, live alone, and can't recharge your battery by being with people.  

This imposed isolation has taken its toll.  There are days in a row that I don't shower or get dressed.  My individual therapy appointment has been on the phone and gone well but I recently joined a group and therapy on Zoom is not working for me.  I hope that improves.

Every day I tell myself how incredibly fortunate I am to have my little home, a stocked pantry, and the ability to turn on a faucet and get water (hot water) any time I wish.  I hope I remain grateful for all that I do have.

Not being a gardener, I don't have that outdoor thing to sink in to and my knees are problematic, so I'm not able to bike or walk sufficiently.  The knee replacement surgery that took a year to get scheduled is not happening April 20th.  Even though it has yet to be cancelled, I can't imagine wanting to be in any hospital right now and how or whom would be willing to come take care of me for the six-eight weeks I'd need help.

There are so many things I could be doing: every closet and drawer need to be cleaned out, there's a shed out back that could use reorganizing, my silverware and jewelry need polishing, my jewelry is a whole n'other story and easily could take a day.  But motivation is lacking.

My coping mechanism is cooking. I cook and then have too much food that I pack up and give away — at a distance.  My kids, ex, and friends are the beneficiaries and that gives me some pleasure.

I struggle to make a schedule, set some goals, focus on anything.  Without a routine, time is floating.  I've always been a night owl so my usual bedtime of 1-2 am has shifted even later.  Right now it's 3:09 am and I'm wide awake.  

TV is my friend.  It always has been and now I just silently pray that DirectTV and the internet keep working.

Maybe I'll be able to get back to writing on a regular basis, the way I did when I started this blog eight years ago — when I was still married, still working, and posting twice a week religiously.  Perhaps this will again become an outlet for me, a way of communicating with others I know and many I don't.  I just looked at my blog stats and saw that last month there were 743 page views in Sweden!  Hello out there in Scandinavia!  That motivated me.

Tonight I attended a 70th birthday party via Zoom.  The birthday girl was my dear friend's sister and they'd expected to be celebrating together in Barcelona.  Instead of Spain, 14 people from six or seven states sang, toasted, spoke over one another, had technical difficulties, and were all amazed that technology allowed for such a virtual gathering.

We're going to get through this.  We're going to struggle.  We're going to need support.  I hope reaching out helps.

Stay well...