Pandemic Thoughts, Seven

 Herself speaks.

I've hit the pandemic isolation wall. 

Six months in, I can no longer be as afraid/paranoid/prone to bleaching all surfaces as I was in the beginning. It's too exhausting to keep that pace. I do the best I can. I still use a lot of hand sanitizer. And I still avoid going out as much as humanly possible. 

I'm viscerally aware of the things that I wish I could do, but cannot do safely, right now:

- Go to the grocery store just to peruse the aisles

- Stop by the drugstore to pick up something small we need

- Visit the bookstore and see if anything catches my eye

- Go to the movies

- Have a meal in a restaurant

- Visit my in-laws

- Make plans to visit my parents

- Make plans to visit Cherished Friend.

Things that under other circumstances, would be ordinary (and which were taken for granted). 

There is no way to make future plans; life is on hold. I go to work, go home. Or I work from home. I place orders for pickup. I scrub the kitchen floor by hand, because I am acutely aware of uncleanliness and because the scrubbing occupies my time. I reorganize things. 

I avoid watching the news. The news is terrible. Every day, new terrible news. Everyone is angry. The planet is angry. I cannot bear to watch.

I mentally plan what I would pack if I were to go camping by myself. Because, as isolated as I am, I crave further isolation. I cannot bear too much company. It's not safe. 

Nothing is safe.

This is a hard place to be. 

Have mercy, Universe. We're suffering.