Day 65
Me in my favorite (mid-80s) shirt.
Retailers are declaring bankruptcy. J. Crew. JC Penney. I think I saw that retail purchases were down 16% recently. Business are struggling. That’s an understatement. My kids and I had unused gift cards, and I declared it shopping day. Who wants to be stuck with hundreds of dollars of gift cards if these stores go under?
We sat on the couch adding things to shopping carts, trying coupon codes. We settled on our orders and read the 16-digit gift card numbers to each other, scraped off the sticky film that hides the PIN with a thumbnail and read that out loud, too. In about an hour, the four of us ordered 18 separate items in four different transactions. It feels so exciting to know that my new Birkenstocks and yoga block will be arriving. That clothes and a new jump rope will be here in the coming weeks. None of us are particularly perturbed that we may have two wait two weeks before receiving these items. We are just happy with our sale shopping, that our gift card balances have reached zero.
The death toll in the U.S. is above 90,000. I feel like now it’s just a matter of days until we see 100,000, which is a spectacularly heartbreaking statistic.
I can’t keep up with the news. Or, I have stopped trying. Let the scientists and researchers do their jobs. Let the doctors and nurses do theirs. Mine is to stay home. It’s not so hard, really.
Except, it feels hard. It feels difficult. The annoyances feel difficult. In the midst of making macaroni and cheese the other night I realized that the coating on my pan was disintegrating as I was stirring in the milk. Thankfully the pile of grated cheese was still safe on the counter, but there went five cups of milk literally down the drain. Related: We are out of milk. I will not go to the store for one item. I can’t really articulate why. I’m sure I could go to the local gas station and safely go inside and purchase milk. But it feels like a risk. We can do without milk for a few days, at which point we will also need a few other things, and then I will feel less like I am just running out for that needed item (which used to be a part of my life a few times each week) and more like I am living responsibly during a pandemic. Living responsibly during a time when leaving my house means taking the risk of returning home with far more than I went out for.
We are healthy. We are safe. We don’t need milk that badly,
Also, I think I’m getting used to this current normal. I feel less enraged by this current reality. I know that, when I’m ready (and realizing that I may have to allow for a few days between order and curbside pick-up), I can call the locally owned corner store and get the few items it would be nice to have before my next epic trip to the grocery store, that I am hoping to put off for at least a week.
We had another weekend of nice weather, and it’s just so much easier to endure this reality during nice weather. Lawn games, laundry hanging outside to dry, hammocks, books. Walks, grilled veggie burgers and eating dinner on the deck. When I am outside I hear the sounds of my neighbors, their voices on the other side of the fence. I see the other neighbor’s puppy growing so fast. I hear the kids across the street, their high-pitched “daddy!” yells. Life is going on.
My mom came to visit today. We sat apart, all wearing masks, chatting with other. It was so good to see her. And so hard not to hug her. And so weird to look at everyone’s faces, all masked. I’m grateful. I’m aghast. I’m learning how to live in both places at once.
GG brought with her an Instant Pot that she no longer wanted and a box of hundreds of photos from my childhood. Hundreds. I have another box of photos that was given to me by my father’s brother, years ago. They are treasures, and I know I need to take the time to write down what I remember now. It makes me want to print more of the photos I’ve taken. To be able to similarly hand off a box to my children, in a few decades, that tells the messy, disorganized tale that has been their lives.
There is still plenty to keep me busy. We have no where to go, but we have sketchbooks and flour, basil plants to plant and, let’s face it, with everyone home all the time the vacuuming frequency really should be bumped up. It’s been more than nine weeks, and it doesn’t feel like we will be spending much time in public any time soon. I don’t plan to set myself impossible goals of reaching any kind of finish line when it comes to organizing photos, printing photos, finishing my novel and/or my memoir, decluttering, rearranging, yard cleanup, or anything else. But, on the other hand, it’s nice to know that if I choose to do any of these things, I will be choosing to participate in my life. I will be choosing to take part in things that I planned — at some point — to attempt.
As we shift and anticipate more change — retailers closing, a different kind of schooling, less time with extended family and friends — I still feel all twisted up inside. But diving into a box of photos spanning more than 30 years of my life has reminded me to remain optimistic, to keep a sense of humor, to never forget how I felt when I wore that pink flannel shirt, collar up, and my white Reebok sneakers. Honestly, if on my online shopping journey today I had found a shirt anything like this one, I would have snatched it up.
Stay safe, everyone.