Like everyone else who isn’t on the frontlines of the coronavirus pandemic, I’m dusting off old hobbies while I stay at home. So hello again, dear blog.
Right now, I simultaneously feel like I have a lot to say and nothing to say. I guess that makes sense since t’s a very weird time that we’re living in. It’s strange to think that we’re in the midst of something, that there was the time before quarantine and social distancing and eventually there will be an “after” — but right now, we’re in the “during.” I realized the other night that, if we’re lucky, one day we’ll be able to tell each other, “remember that time we were quarantined?” Nothing lasts forever, including this.
This is day 29 of quarantine/social distancing for me. I worked from home for the first week or so, but was furloughed afterward. Luckily, I’m still insured and I don’t have any dependents. So now, life is a waiting game in many ways. Waiting for unemployment. Waiting for warmer weather. Waiting for normalcy to return, whatever that may look like.
Most days of my days remind me of summer vacation — but without money and without being able to go anywhere. Restaurants are closed. Movie theaters are closed. Libraries are closed. Target is open, but you need to wear a mask to go inside.
Of course, if you’re reading this in April 2020, you know all this because you’re living it too. But I’m writing this for myself because one day this will feel like a distant memory. Part of me wants to remember how uncomfortable and uncertain this time is. This will be part of my life, and I want to be able to look back at this. (It’s part of the reason I blog — it’s like a journal with a search function.)
The days are blurring together, but mercifully go by quickly. Some are better than others. I’m passing the time watching television or reading. I dug out my adult coloring book from 2016. I scroll on Instagram and walk the dogs. Happy hour happens on FaceTime. Sometimes, I cook or bake so I can have something new to do. This is the first time I’m writing, for my own enjoyment, in months.
Right now, I have a handful of drafts from the time before. I have all the time in the world to finish them, but don’t want to risk sounding incredibly tone-deaf. Does anyone care about x,y or z when people are struggling to keep a roof over their heads and trying to stay healthy? I’m going to keep writing because it brings me joy, but I’m also trying my best during this weird time. And things will probably be weird for a while.
I’ll wrap this up before things totally devolve, but stay safe and stay home if you can. Sending my friends and family a virtual hug.