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.
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!
The Greek Bouzouki blasts from the tv screen overlooking 3 barbers. Two young hip,stylish American Greek men wear sleek black plastic gloves that match their hair color as they trim and buzz the two patrons in the shop.
But the older barber with the creases in the back of his neck, that my kid calls “credit card swipes,”cuts and snips with his bare hands. You just know he’d rather die from Corona before he’d wear sissy plastic gloves. He reeks of machismo.
After he removes the customer cape, and walks to the register-he doesn’t even think about a squirt of Purel. He just scratches his face, hands the patron his credit card receipt and gives himself a quick crotch pinch.
Thank you. No Corona worries here. Opa!!
My 18 year old son is about to vote for the first time. He’s researched the candidates and is ready to influence the election, despite the Corona virus. He knows- we all know the safe practices to follow.
After being bombarded with candidate cards and smiles as we approached the voting area, it was clear little consideration had been given to social distancing. The voting lines were filled with people standing about a finger nail apart. The volunteers were huddled around the corner of a plastic card table with no hand sanitizer to be seen.
After asking for his driver’s license, a distracted poll worker handed him an unsterile, clear Bic pen with bite marks on it to sign his name on the sticker establishing that he exists. This was then followed by her giving him an equally unsanitary white plastic card to vote with. More lines. As it was time for him to vote, the bell rang as if we were at Trader Joes; and he heard a wave of applause at the announcement ” first time voter.!” And then he’s escorted to a computer screen bouncing with leftover germs from the last 3 voters. Yuk!
After Voting, he was rewarded for his bravery during this national crisis with a dollop of hand sanitizer and an “I voted today”sticker. Go vote!