Yesterday, I got my second ever text message announcing the end of life on the planet as I know it. (The first being the famous incoming missle message in Hawai’i)
This morning, I had a very long talk with myself and sent the following email to several friends:
I read this to mean “stay at home”. And, home is Apartment 1134 AKA The Old Bat Cave.
I will go and get food, using the stairs. I will go outside for exercise. And to take pictures. Even sit in the sun. I will take the trash out. I haven’t thought out the weekly cleaning thing yet. But no more sanity-saving meals with my beloved accidental family, no more just wandering around the building hoping to see someone or something of interest. The risk is too great.
In the best interest of my friends and fellow inmates, I am locking myself in right now. I am the one of us who is most likely not to follow the rules. I live too close to the edge. Always have. Being caged will limit the damage I can do to others. And, to myself.
For now, The Asylum is treating the entire establishment as an Episcopalian eruv as far as COVID-19 goes. So we are a “home” of 500 family members and 400 “caretakers”. We are supposed to stay 6 feet apart. But, that doesn’t happen. And everyone really is free to come and go as they please. The workers go home every night. It is time to be a grownup, to hunker down in the cozy confines of the Old Bat Cave. Just like the Governor says.
That being said. Two ambulances just rolled in. One is not unusual. Two is.
This is the gee dunk. Notice the bottles of wine – right next to the Little Debbies.
The remains of our box-o-dinner last evening.
Some take social distancing to the next level.
Gratitude
Looking with gratitude toward my solitary dinner of beef tenderloin and asparagus. Also free wine. Which my wine connoisseur friends say is “worth what it costs”.
Exercise-wise today. Only 2.25 miles. But, I did 3 round trips from my room to the ground level. At 11 floors each time.
Mālama pono