Seriously! You toss your nasty corona laced gloves in the parking lot of the grocery store? Who exactly do you think is going to pick it up? Is it too much to toss it in the garbage can you pass by as you exit the store? Let me guess your hands were filled with the toilet paper you were hoarding to walk back and toss the gloves. So instead, you peeled them off, and with door partially open dropped them on the ground? Right? Thought so. Worse yet, you get enraged if people litter!
Ask most critics of AA or 12 step programs and they will object to the idea of any person being “powerless,” and then voice a problem with God.
For those that can’t imagine the idea of being powerless, it is sort of like the moment we are living in right now. We have little control over the Corona Virus and our life is unmanageable. Imagine living like that internally all the time.
I must check a screen every 5-10 minutes. Not that much changes. I can’t seem to create or initiate anything interesting. I probably spend more time wondering why I have no motivation than I spend doing anything. It’s not the virus. Maybe I’m just tapped out. Older. More settled. Afraid. Don’t see the purpose or joy that once came from creativity. It left me.
I don’t like virtual meetings. So stop asking me to join one or telling me how wonderful it is.
I don’t want to be dressed in a green St. Patrick’s day hat and sweater looking at extended family eating corn beef and cabbage up close. Should I tell Aunt Margaret, she has cabbage in her tooth? What about cousin Phil whose mouth is so close to the camera, I can smell his virtual bad breath. And would someone please pass Uncle Ted a virtual napkin- he’s drooling on my screen.
In fairness, I don’t like seeing myself in the corner of the screen. I don’t like the choppy interruptions of 10 people trying to talk. I don’t like how close your face is next to mine on the screen. Makes me wish their was virtual social distancing.
It’s hard to stay engaged virtually. I focus on the family photos behind you; try to figure out if you are in an apartment or house; notice your finished basement and wonder if we should do the same. But I’m not a fan of the dark wooden bookshelf behind you. Time for an upgrade-sorry.
Even on tv, everyone who looks so cool and together in studio, appears inept from home. Last night, I struggled to listen to audio that scraped and scratched as the experienced politician talked to his laptop. And the NYT reporter whose glasses fogged up with each word she spoke. And while David Gergen looked sharp under appropriate lighting, it appeared his laptop camera was looking up at him rather than across from him.
If these difficult times have taught me anything, it’s that I miss my landline telephone.
How many times have we heard someone say if speaking up or doing something saves even one life, then it was worth it? But until today, I don’t think I really connected to these messages in a personal way.
This evening an epidemiologist told us that if we feel like we are doing nothing, lounging on the couch, watching screens, eating bad food, playing games, and wasting time; then we are serving our fellow man and being patriotic. She kept it real. If you self quarantine , you greatly reduce the risk of catching or passing on Covid-19.
In essence, if I live my life like I do during football season, basketball season and March Madness, then I could save a life? and my country? Then I’m in. I pledge to serve in this way even after this pandemic becomes history.
If even one person can survive because I sit on my butt and gaze at screen for hours then it will be worth the effort!
Only a vowel separates safe six from safe sex. Think about it.
Going on our daily walk, I still find it weird to be playing “keep away” with the person walking towards us. It’s like I’m back in elementary school, trying to steer clear of the kid with cooties.
Today, there were three teenage boys clumped together like one big Covid-19. We had to decide whether to walk past them on the narrow stretch of sidewalk and risk not being 6 feet apart or cut across the wet, muddy field. We took the later, the road less travelled. As we sunk in the wet mud, I referred to those boys as bullies. And the I could hear Melania Trump tell them to “ be best” and walk 6 ft apart. But they weren’t listening.
Sweet photo of a couple of young kids with their arms around each other celebrating a swimming victory. A colleague wiping his nose during our online team meeting. Paying for groceries with my debit and then having to punch in the password. Suddenly I see all of these moments with a more discerning eye.
How can those swimmers stand so close? 6 feet- come on! Seriously don’t touch your nose, and certainly not on screen. Should I speak up? Shame him? Do I really have to hit each key of my password? No gloves? Who knows how many germ covered fingers touched this credit card terminal.
Terminal? Oh crap!
4wrdthnkndad
