Each day I try to add entries to what I term my “Coronavirus Journal.” I started on March 11 because that was our last normal day—going to Master Provisions to pick up food to give away, going to Bread of Life Café at Central, meeting with our FriendSpeak readers. Now, 48 days and 20 pages later, I’m reflecting on that time.
Yes, Anna had asked if we were meeting, and I saw no reason not to. But when we got home, Kelsey forwarded to me an email from her child’s principal, saying that school might be canceled starting the next day. I was shocked! I saved the email in my Coronavirus Journal, because for me it was the beginning of the whole novel coronavirus/COVID-19/quarantine that affected me directly.
Since then, we all know what’s happened and is continuing to happen. Latex gloves and masks have become commonplace in my life. I order my Kroger groceries online and pick them up at—are you ready?—Walgreens! What on earth? But I have to say that for the most part it works great. Sometimes items are missing, but they mark on the order form which ones I wasn’t charged for. I just have to trust them on that. Never a sales slip—just the printout.
This morning Steve and I actually went to a Kroger store during “senior hours.” For me, it was the first time since March 15. Amazing! I loved actually seeing what I was going to buy rather than just a picture, especially in produce. I’ve yearned for fresh flowers and getting them was my prime motivator. The ones I grabbed in a hurry aren’t the best, but at least they aren’t artificial and remind me that spring is actually here.
Being quarantined at home has been a great blessing for me. We are in the process of remodeling a condo to move to and packing up what’s in our house of 35 years. Today I am overwhelmed at all that is involved. It’s amazing how much I have squirreled away in drawers and closets over the years.
It’s a cinch I don’t need all this stuff. It’s just stuff. The hard part is deciding which stuff I’ll actually use after we move. And, of course, where I will put it in the condo. We are going from nine rooms to seven, which doesn’t sound too challenging until you throw in the basement—the laundry room, the playroom, the exercise room, and the furnace room. That adds up to a huge change.
The exercise room is filled with bags of clothing to give away, and yet no one is taking it right now. The bags represent progress and yet they also remind me that we have no idea when places such as the Women’s Crisis Center and Brighton Center and Goodwill will open again.
The clutter is driving me a bit crazy. My desk is always a disaster, but most of the house is usually pretty orderly. Now, more and more, we’re in the stage of “it has to get worse before it can get better.”
It’s a move I’m eager to make and we are excited about the changes. I certainly understand why people in their seventies should downsize. If I were any older I’m not sure I could do it!