BC’s
daily numbers have surged during the past week, so it’s time to accept that I
live in a COVID-19 universe.
It’s
been a luxury to ignore it until now. I work primarily from home, heading into
town once a week to visit the new office space and have tea with a couple of
friends. It’s mostly a social thing that has helped me adapt to wearing a mask
in public. It felt weird and strange and awkward for the first few months, and
I still don’t like it, but for the first time ever, it felt almost natural
during a weekend trip to the mall.
I
have stuck pretty close to home since all this started. Truly, if not for my
weekly sojourns—chauffeured by Ter to avoid public transit—I’d probably be a
hermit. Ter has adapted more quickly, as she goes out every couple of days to
get groceries and some fresh air (she’s always been more restless than me;
apparently I can stay home for days on end but she needs to get out and breathe
... even in a mask).
Anyway,
this past weekend, our PVR crapped out so to kill some time, we did what we
used to do without ever thinking about it. We went to the mall. Ter’s parking
karma was in full force, scoring us a spot right near the identified entrance
that some folks were still using as an exit (sigh). As I pulled my mask from my
purse and fixed it in place before leaving the car, I felt like I was preparing
to rob a bank, but other than that, I’m so accustomed to a face covering that I
forgot about it within minutes.
And I
had a ball! Standing in line to get into the bookstore, spritzing sanitizer on
my hands at every shop entrance, conversing with clerks through two layers of
cloth and a sheet of plexiglass—all that was different, but in this suddenly
oddball existence it felt like a trip to the mall always feels:
Normal.
I was
particularly happy to order New York fries—my go-to snack in any food court,
though this time it was to go and the clerk had to hand me the condiments on
request. It’s been interesting at Blenz and Bucky’s too, having the barista add
sugar and cream to my tea rather than me loading it up myself. I’m tapping my
debit/credit card instead of forking over the cash—I’ve had the same twenty
dollar bill in my wallet since March—and on Saturday I tapped up a storm as I
restocked my home supply of Paris Afternoon tea and Purdy’s chocolate, tried
cinnamon buns from a new foodie outlet, and couldn’t leave without getting the
aforementioned NY fries.
Sure,
the bulk of my purchases were comfort carbs ... but with my history, that was
normal, too!
Watching
a toddler weaving in her mother’s wake, I wondered what she’ll remember of her
childhood when she grows up. No one wants COVID to become the norm, but right
now, there’s less harm in adapting to the rules than there is in fighting them.
So far in my life, I have found that if I give myself three days, I can adapt
to anything.
With
love (and fries),
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