Speaking of neighborhood wildlife:
“There are turkey vultures fighting over a former raccoon in the woods behind us and it just feels so March 2020” --My neighbor
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The COVID-19 pandemic has given rise to all kinds of unexpected developments and outcomes, but let’s not forget the important things. Like spelling. Among the newspapers and online news services, there does not seem to be agreement on COVID vs. Covid vs covid, and I feel that I should weigh in. I’m qualified. I write stuff all day long.
First of all, I’m eliminating Covid altogether. COVID is an acronym for COronaVIrus Disease, so nothing about Covid makes any sense whatsoever. This leaves us with a choice between COVID and covid. COVID looks better, doesn’t it? Acronyms make more sense in all caps. On the other hand, coronavirus and disease are both lower-case words. So I think I’m going to rule in favor of covid. That’s official.
But let’s just continue to call it “coronavirus,” shall we? It’s a horrible thing but at least it’s fun to say.
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I’m still waiting for the first great coronavirus meme. I’ve seen lots of funny memes and jokes, but nothing really memorable. Nothing that will stand out as THE definitive Coronacrisis joke.
Most of the memes that I’ve seen so far have been toilet paper-themed. Literal bathroom humor. I’ve also seen some funny dog- and cat-themed memes in which the dogs are all overjoyed that their humans are around all day and the cats are like “you assholes are still here?” Work from home jokes are also funny--my Facebook friends are all complaining about disruptive, lazy co-workers who contribute nothing and try to steal other people’s lunches. I’m glad I don’t have toddlers at home. Of course, there’s also at least one Chuck Norris fact:
“Chuck Norris tested positive for coronavirus. Coronavirus is now under quarantine.”
Here’s my idea: Buddy the Elf in a business suit, saying “Coronavirus--THAT’S fun to say!”
I know.
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I used to order groceries online a long time ago, when my children were little and my police officer husband was never home, and a trip to the grocery store with tiny children took three times as long as the same trip by myself but I could never go by myself because my husband was never home when I needed to go and I wasn’t going to get a babysitter just to buy milk and eggs. I didn’t really like ordering online grocery delivery. In 2008 or so, the search and predictive analytics were not very good, and creating an online grocery order was really tedious. Once my children were old enough to be actually helpful on a grocery shopping trip, and then to stay at home alone, I started brick-and-mortar shopping again.
Oh that all seems a long time ago. Doesn’t everything pre-corona seem a long time ago?
Anyway, I finally opened an Instacart account, for grocery shopping in the time of corona. I set up the account on Wednesday, and the first available delivery date was Saturday. Thankfully, I didn’t need anything immediately, but this is part of our (sorry, I hate this expression too) new normal. Plan for your grocery shopping at least four days in advance. Anyway, Instacart is very easy to use, and you can tip your shopper right through the app. I tipped $10, and now I think it’s not enough.
Me to the neighbor quoted above: “We’re only in real trouble when ‘former raccoon’ becomes an Instacart selection.”
That’s pretty funny, isn’t it? I crack myself up.
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A year ago today, how would you have reacted if you’d been handed a roll of toilet paper with your takeout order? Yeah, I know.
This post was supposed to be all corona, all the time, so I wasn’t going to write about books. But I’m reading Christopher Isherwood’s Goodbye to Berlin, and it’s hard not to see unsettling parallels between 1930s Germany and March 2020 USA. Yes, I know; I’m always predicting the return of the 1930s. This is different, though. The coronavirus pandemic will resolve eventually. I hope it will happen sooner rather than later, but it will end at some point. But no matter when the quarantine ends, nothing is going back to normal.
Nor should it. If this crowned head of a virus has done one good thing, it’s been to force everyone to really see the gross inequities that make our economy unsustainable even in the best of times, and completely untenable during a crisis. It’s also made blindingly clear who’s really important in the world. I do valuable work, work that I’m proud of. But if I didn’t show up to work for a week--and if everyone like me didn’t show up to work for a week--things would be fine. There’d be a lot of badly written memos and instructions and a lot of poorly designed presentations, but no one would starve. But if the Instacart drivers and warehouse workers and food producers/preparers all stop showing up for even a day, then we’re all screwed.
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At the very end of Goodbye to Berlin, Christopher Isherwood is preparing to leave Berlin forever, to return to his home in England. He writes about the last chaotic and uncertain days of the Weimar Republic; the unrest in the streets, the clashes between Nazis and Communists, and the not knowing what was coming next. After the Nazis take control of Germany with stunning speed, he writes “Only a week since I wrote the above.” Then from the perspective of many years later, he writes “Even now I can’t altogether believe that any of this has really happened.”
So what am I going to do? I’m going to do what’s in front of me, one minute at a time, one foot in front of the other. I’m going to work and read and write. I’m going to hang out with my family. I’m going to check on my friends. I’m going to help my neighbor organize a food and supply delivery service for our older neighbors. I’m going to try not to get fat. That last part will be the hardest, or at least it seems so for now. I’ll update you in a week.
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