Dispatches from the Coronavirus Days #11

I have now been under self-quarantine since March 15th and work-from-home status since March 17th. I have left the house a few times; early on, before we really understood the enormity of the Covid-19 outbreak, I ventured inside a store or two, disgusted by the lack of seriousness with which people were greeting this pandemic. It has been weeks since I stepped inside a structure now, my few jaunts only occuring whenever presciptions were needed and, only then, at the drive-up window.

I'm not sick. I could be asymptomatic but how would I know? My wife was sick before the "stay home, stay safe" order from Governor Whitmer, making things even more uncertain in my household. We don't think she had Covid-19 but since the hospitals aren' t seeing people for anything that isn't life-threatening, it's impossible to know for sure.

What can I tell you about my state-of-mind? I suppose it could be worse. As the popualr article and memes will tell you, we Gen-X'ers are easily the most predisposed to having to keep our asses at home for extended periods of time. It's how most of us spent our childhoods, especially the teen years. Honestly, this for me just feels like a weekday in summer that somehow got extended. The difference is, though, I could leave the house back then. I could hop on my bike and go to the store and actually walk inside and touch things and buy them and bring them home and...well, you get the idea. The only way I can do that stuff now is armed with a cannister of Lysol disinfectant wipes, a mask, rubber gloves and a full body condom!

"This, too, shall pass," right? I mean, if it's in the Bible...Okay, I can't in good conscience finish that sentence but enjoy whatever is your takeaway.

I try to tell myself the above sentiment, but then I look across the street at all the people who are still crowding into the grocery stores. I need to eat, too. My wife and I have been waiting over a week for our delivery service; we finally opted to do a pickup, thereby increasing the risk factor. But I'm not entering the building because I'm not a moron. I know this because my mom told me so.

I suppose my fear is that as time passes, the act of being outside of the house will become foreign and undesirable to me. The other day while cleaning, I took trash out to the receptacles in the backyard, where the sun shone down on me rather intensely. I stood in place and let the rays hit me for several minutes, blinded, deciding this must be how plants feel when they're bombarded with life-giving solar rays. Then I went back inside.

(In case you're wondering, the image above is a meme that's going around as a response to President Trump's dismissive comments regarding the Governor of Michigan.)

First Patreon Post of September.

Remiss in my duties once again, here finally is the Patreon Post you've no doubt been awaiting with bated and whiskey-soaked breath!

A Peek Inside the Real Me.

I don't know if this is a poem but it felt like one as I was writing it a few minutes ago. It hasn't been edited except for spelling and repetition nor will it be. I also don't have a title. Anyway, this is me at my most raw:

The man who went to bed last night,

Is not the man who woke up in the same bed this morning.

The face in the mirror is similar, but

There is a shadow over it.

The eyes lack focus for they gaze long away,

To a place that is not a place, that

Cannot be seen by anyone else.

The man eats the same meals and

Performs the same menial tasks.

He says all the things he is expected to say,

Despite feeling nothing when he says them.

The man who went to bed last night felt things.

He found hope in the tiniest moments,

He looked for the bright spot in the darkest times.

He may have seemed cynical but he was secretly, embarrassingly,

A hopeless romantic burdened with the cruel presence

Of realism.

He was a fool.

The man who awoke knows this because

He remembers all of it as if having interrupted

A dream he suddenly controlled.

But dreams are lies we tell ourselves in order to

Not give in.

For there is a pit that awaits us all just outside our daily vision.

Neither malevolent nor loving, it simply waits.

Some of us never feel its pull. Some of us

Have enough inside to avoid it altogether.

But not the man who woke up in bed. He feels each day,

Each moment slipping away.

The pit widens and reaches for him because he is ready.

The man who went to bed is not the man

Who woke up.

That man was not awake.

This one wants to sleep forever.