It's May 1! We Turn the Page: What An Awful Month!

It's May. We made it.

How, I have no idea. I go outside to shop for food, to buy some spray bottles, to pick up prescriptions, and to walk some. I also took a drive, though that wasn't smart. Those excursions were the exception, though, not the rule. I have no urge to run about, throwing myself at the atmosphere. Way, way too dangerous.

Maybe you were smarter than me. Maybe you're getting everything delivered. But for me, things are really close, so I put on my mask and gloves and have at it. Just about everything I need is a block away. I know I'm lucky, but I also know that that was the plan all along.

Monday, I walked into the hardware store to buy a spray bottle. One of the clerks sneezed. There I stood, about six feet away. But he wore a mask. Think I'll be all right.

25 days to go on shutdown. Maybe, if all goes well. I have my doubts. Everything still feels arbitrary.

The back of my left hand has a rash or something, perhaps from excessive washing. No matter; it'll get washed anyhow. That's a small annoyance. At least I know it's clean. I have plenty of soap, liquid and bar. I'll be fine. I cover my hands with soap in the bathroom, step outside to view a small clock with a sweep hand, make sure it goes 20 seconds, and wash it off.

My supply of disinfectant spray is decent; I use it rarely because I have to go outside rarely. But it's still there. I stocked up on sanitizer when I could, then got two spray bottles so I'm never far from it. Gloves, I think, will be a problem; I'll have to either order some or look for some fairly soon. But again, I don't go out that much. I can stretch the supply.

I'm getting out some CDs that I haven't played for a while. I'm throwing a few away; I have no idea why I bought some of them. But that winnowing out feels like it's been waiting for a while. It kind of feels like I'm listening to some of this stuff for the first time. I'm impressed with my taste, sort of.

I found a safety pin the other day. Big deal? You bet. One of the homemade masks my brother and sister-in-law sent to me had its elastic earhook break upon washing, thus for a while rendering it useless. The safety pin brings it back into play. One more day I don't have to rewash everything.

My strategy of reading one chapter a day with three books got a little stale, so I dived into something I've been waiting to read: These Truths: A History of the United States, by Jill Lepore, who writes for The New Yorker. 97 pages in, and it's really well done, even though as a retired history teacher, I know the story and many of its fascinating parts (though her research is impressive and I'm still learning stuff I didn't know). This book is written the way history should read. I'll review it here when I'm done, but it's huge, and I have a ways to go.

It's May. We turn the page on an awful month. Nothing good to be said for it when lockdown has encompassed it, other than we survived. But that's never a bad place to start.

My wine supply is ebbing slowly. So far, with the exception of one night, I've had my normal limit: two glasses. That other night, well, nothing good to be said for it, except to remind myself why I put the limit in place.

Yeah, my hair's getting pretty shaggy on the sides and back; not much left on top anyhow. I look like a mad professor. Actually, I kind of like that. I shave, that is, I reduce what's on my face, every two or three days, at which point I don't like myself. Not supposed to touch my face anyhow, though if the virus isn't inside, it doesn't matter. Just keep the hands clean, dude.

Onward. It's a lonely time, but one for thinking about how to advance through life a little better. I do know this: every breath I take is now not taken for granted. When you monitor yourself for the awful virus, existential thoughts aren't far away. You think about what you've accomplished, what you've had to overcome, and how that directs you now; some of the deeper thinking I've done.

In Milwaukee County, those with Covid-19 symptoms can get tested, no questions asked, so that's an advancement. We should have been there long ago, though, and 45's utter incompetence is still, and will always be, to blame, as well as his utter irresponsibility to lead. But we have what we have, and the fight is still about staying alive long enough to throw him out.

It's not about being hot about it anymore. It's about being cold about all this. The Chinese had a point about revenge. Celebrate being alive for May, and June, and the months ahead, so we can celebrate in November.

Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.


Mister Mark