Welcome to our new reality. Covid-19. Sheltering in place. Stupid invisible germs and visible jerks.
(Come on people, social distancing is the new norm… can’t we all stop breathing on each other in line?)
I’m cranky and sick. Not the plague-sick. But the head cold that makes you unreasonable when your love leaves you coffee bedside, only for it to grow cold while you sleep. I’m not sure what the solution to that one is. Other than to recognize that I should stay quiet.
Sheltering in place is weird. First, I work from home anyway. I eschew a desk gravitating to a singular spot on the couch. I’m in a sector deemed essential so that means my laptop is humming non-stop with demands.
Friday is my regular day off. Not that it matters much. Where would I go?
Does ‘off’ mean I now switch seats to the other side of the couch? Do I swap out the cats? I used to spend my Fridays running errands, having coffee with friends, catching up on the accounting for the garage. But now, under this new reality I’m at odds with myself. I’m at odds with the extra two bodies who have moved in to share my personal supply of oxygen full-time.
I suppose I could go to the gym.
By gym I mean TheGirl’s room which has been transformed with a TRX system over the door and a borrowed Spin Cycle. I believe there is also a yoga mat and hand weights available and TheGirl will throw things and yell at you from her place lounging on her bed and charge you $50 an hour for the privilege. It’s a crowded gym.
We also have a safety analyst on staff here at Chez Moi. LatteBoy is currently in our room getting crumbs in the bed. I mentioned (i.e. suggested strongly) he could eat lunch at the table and he demurred—he prefers casual dining for lunch…or I guess brunch. Frankly it doesn’t seem particularly safe to me. If he spills his weird immuno drink, or gets mustard on my duvet, I might kill him.
Maybe in this time of plague our parameters of risk are skewed.
I shouldn’t complain. LatteBoy brings me coffee in bed and wades through the throngs to be in line at Trader Joes before they open. He shops while I snooze away my cold. I should forgive his failure to recognize nutritional yeast is not a substitute for the regular yeast on my grocery list. I hope he doesn’t miss bread when we run out.
Upside: I now have nutritional yeast.
Downside: I now have nutritional yeast. Send recipes.
The cats are less pleased by the new state of the world. There are doors slamming and people yelling from upstairs. Their quiet little sanctuary has been invaded. Hunter, our big Tom, patrols relentlessly starting at 4pm when LatteBoy should be starting home from San Francisco, but ignores him the rest of the day now he’s here full time. Our semi-feral rescue Bindi has always known the world was a scary, dangerous place. We’ve only confirmed she’s right. She won’t share her hiding space under the hope chest, or behind LatteBoy’s pants in the closet. We’re on our own.
Until it’s time to feed her.
We are the lucky ones. The healthy ones. The employed ones. Our world has changed, and we won’t know by how much until this is over.
I worry about the underemployed, the unemployed. I participate in our local economy as much as I can. I buy beans and order delivery from my favorite new coffee place—they opened up a month ago. I hope they can hang on. I over tip.
I call my parents. I worry about my uncle in his eighties with diabetes caring for my aunt with MS—going to the market to shop. I’m not alone. We are not alone. Our community of readers and authors and creative talent are struggling personally, and professionally. And while I count myself as one of the blessed, it’s frankly too soon to plant that flag.
We have met the great equalizer: Covid-19. It doesn’t give a damn. So we must.
In the gathering darkness…
I wish you and yours health and happiness.
I wish you the food and economic sustenance you need to make it through.
I wish you the support of your community and loved ones.
Be kind. Be smart. Be Safe. And especially be generous whenever you can. And let me know what you’ve turned to for inspiration, or entertainment, or enlightenment as we hunker down with our emergency Cheetos and delivery lattes, and work on happy endings for us all.
-LE Franks
LE Franks is an author of Gay Romance fiction, living in the SF Bay Area surrounded by inspiration; and after years of ignoring the voices in her head, she’s now giving them free reign in the form of her characters.
Email: le.franks.books@gmail.com
Nutritional yeast is good on popcorn (be sure to add a little butter so it sticks to the popcorn) and you may find your cat loves it (not too much or your litter box will overfloweth).
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I’m basically self quarantined because should I be a carrier I couldn’t live with myself if I infected someone else.
Cuddle any cat you can catch. It will help…even if only momentarily… or until they hiss at you!
Gizmo the Wonder Pup keeps me sane. He’s enjoying the extra walks too!