My next-door neighbor just told me that he had the Coronavirus in December, that he was down for 10 days, lost weight, lost his sense of smell and taste, and felt like he had a big rubber band around his chest. He had to sleep in a chair because it hurt to lie down. He makes number 8 on my list of how many people I personally know that have had Covid-19.
Of course he didn’t get tested. The virus didn’t have a public name back then. He’s been meaning to do the antibody test but hasn’t done it yet.
As my friends fight on Facebook as to whether or not the virus has been blown out of proportion by the media and whether or not our president is to blame for some of it, I’ve been trying to stick to a schedule to keep from going insane.
Today the sun was shining early, so I went out to pull the foxtail weeds that get up my dogs’ noses and make them sneeze. I walked one dog, played ball with another, pulled some more weeds, and then went inside.
I read my book which is coming to the dramatic ending, but since I was sitting in sun, I got sleepy.
I put in a load of laundry, made my salad, ate it, then read some more of my book.
Then I realized I didn’t have my phone in my back pocket. Let the hunt begin!
I finally found it and saw that I had missed a phone call. I t was a chorus friend worried about me since I am making my Barbie and Ken doll talk to each other in the kitchen sink and blogging about it.
Yes, I really did that. I wrote about it because I thought it was funny in a bizarre sort of way.
I have a Zoom call at 6:30 tonight, my third Zoom this week, and another live Facebook music event tomorrow night (my second this week).
This is what summer will look like. Lots of Facebook concerts alone in the house, not outside in the park on a warm summer night (it’s hard to look at screens outside).
All those cute summer clothes I thought I had to buy since I’d lost 25 pounds since last year. Who will see them now besides my dogs? How will I partner dance while home alone? Pepper doesn’t swing dance, and Daisy is just too short, anyway.
My introverted winter life style is me hibernating to get ready for my extroverted summer. Only this year I may be forced to remain an introvert against my will. Typing woot woot in the comment line isn’t the same as cheering for musicians in person after they’ve finished performing a good song. Seeing friends’ names in the comments isn’t the same as giving them a friendly hug at the park and dancing with them in a circle when the next song comes on.
Women need to dance! Yes, I can live stream a Zumba class once a week, and that might be fun, but it won’t measure up to the 3 to 5 times I’d go out to hear live music each week in summers past.
I spend winters reading books and writing. I can’t see myself doing more of that in the warm months ahead. No birthday parties, no barbecues, no 4th of July parade, no on and on and on.
Am I feeling sorry for myself? I know I shouldn’t. I know I am lucky to have a house and food and money to get through all of this.
I know I am living a historical event that only happens once a century. I know that in the big picture, this is not that big of a deal.
The annual Memorial Day party at Don and Marcie’s is cancelled this year. Will we reunite in 2021?
I guess we’ll have to wait and see.