covid diary: day 21

March has been the longest month of my life. And probably yours too. Thirty-one days, but it feels like a lifetime has passed. On March 1, there were 94 cases of COVID-19 in the U.S. Trump was still saying that it was no big deal, just like the flu, everyone would recover quickly, and nothing bad would happen. We were watching the news from China, from Italy, and thinking it could get bad here, but we had no idea. We still really have no idea how bad it can get, but now we know that it can get really bad, really fast. Even in a place like Indiana, which has been relatively low in terms of infection rates. Look at the change in the past 10 days:

Again, that's 10 days. And those numbers are with extremely limited testing. Only very sick people are able to get the test. The majority of people (thank goodness) won't get that sick, so they won't get tested. But look again at those maps, and then think that this is a minority, something like 20 percent of the actual number of people who have this virus. Are you scared? Are you as scared as I am?

And still, I keep seeing arguments that guns/car accidents/flu/whatever kill more people per year than COVID-19. As if that's an argument that we shouldn't be taking this seriously. It's not like the flu; people have no immunity to this virus. There's no vaccine. There's no "coronavirus season" that we know of. And it's definitely not like guns or car accidents. You can't choose not to get COVID-19. You can't choose what you do with it. There are no seat belts (metaphorically speaking) that can improve your chances, and there's no requirement for licensing or minimum education in place that can minimize accidents by increasing knowledge of best practices. Honestly, this isn't like anything else except for a different novel pandemic. You can legitimately compare it to the 1918 flu pandemic, for example. But that's it. And people minimizing this make me so angry because they're not just risking their own lives; they're risking the lives of every single person they come into contact with.

And listen, I get that it's hard. I am so used to seeing my parents, to having the boys see my parents. I value that relationship more than almost all others. My parents treasure the boys, and the boys treasure them right back. I am in constant gratitude that the boys have them to learn from, to spend time with, to know. And in the past three weeks, we've seen them once, across the wide expanse of a cemetery. And we don't know when it will be safe to see them again. It's impossibly hard. And we multiply that by everyone we care about but can't see right now. But we know that this isolation is keeping all of us safer, so we make do with phone calls, with facetime, with texts. We make do.

I'm not going to lie. This sucks, and I'm fairly certain we won't get through it without having it personally affect us in one way or another. But what choice do we have right now except to take it seriously and take any measures within our power to protect ourselves and the people we love?

Nationwide cases: 189,978. Deaths: 4,093.

covid diary: day 20

Friends, even in the middle of a pandemic, it's important to celebrate the small victories in life. So let's do that for a minute, because the library project is finished! Come with me on this remarkable journey ...

First, the before pictures. The stains on the carpet in the library and office have bothered us from the day we moved in. We've tried scrubbing them, renting a machine from the grocery store, even hiring a professional carpet cleaner, and still the stains stubbornly remained. In the library, we strategically deployed an area rug to cover the worst of it, but the area rug kept shifting and bunching up under the furniture, and having to adjust it every day was driving us mad. The other major issue, which honestly has probably only been an issue for me (not for Mike or the boys, who don't care so much), is the overwhelming beige-ness of the whole main floor. Look at the library walls: cream on top, taupe on bottom. Beige in spades. And yes, in retrospect, I realize that buying a cream-colored couch/love seat set was probably a mistake, but I really liked the shape of them.

 The first step on our agenda was to clear the room. The big boys carried the couch (and the love seat from my office) down to the basement, where they will live permanently and make a nice contrast to the multi-colored floor down there. They are pretty excited about the extra seating in their video game/TV area too. Henry and I cleared the rest of the room, and packed away all the books and Fiestaware (while also going through the books and donating a bunch of them), then Henry started carpet removal and pulling up the tack strips.

Mike took out all the bookcases and trim, and then it was time to get down to business. I picked a very light lilac for the top half of the room, which Henry was convinced for a while was actually white. Yes, that's my dad's painting platform. Don't tell him. I borrowed it almost 13 years ago, so I think by law it's mine, no matter what name is emblazoned on it.

I picked a darker purple for the bottom half, and now you can kind of see where I'm going with this, right?

Once the painting was finished, we turned our attention to the floor. Since the carpet had thick padding underneath it, the subfloor, once we uncovered it, was about half an inch lower than the floors in the adjoining rooms, so the solution was to put another layer of subfloor down. This was entirely Mike's department, with assists from the boys in carrying big sheets of plywood to and fro.

Mike finished laying the subfloor Saturday afternoon, and then it was my turn to shine. I spent the rest of the day laying out, cutting, and adhering the new carpet tiles.

Sunday morning, Henry got to nail the trim back up, with a little guidance from Mike. Then Mike, Liam, and Max hauled the bookcases back in and installed them, and I filled them up.

I finished bringing in the last of the furniture this morning, and voila! We have a new and improved space. Eventually we'll want to put another chair in there, but probably not for a while, since a new chair would probably cost as much or more by itself than all the materials (carpet, paint, subfloor) for the entire project cost us. But we've got time. Behold the "after" shots:

Pretty cozy, right? And not at all beige.

This project has really been a sanity saver for me. I've been in such a state of anxiety about the world. I'm exhausted all the time, and it's been very hard to concentrate on anything, including and especially reading. And if you know me, you know how dire that really is. So patching, painting, ripping up and putting back together ... these are things I can do on autopilot and sort of shut my mind off for a little while. I know I'm not the only one — five out of five people in my house are sleeping way more than normal, and exhibiting plenty of other stress reactions too. And maybe tearing the whole main level up isn't the healthiest way to deal with all this stress, but it's the way that's helping me most. So onward we go to give the office the same treatment.

Meanwhile, in the world outside our house, the situation continues to deteriorate. It looks like many places won't hit the peak of medical need until the middle of April. Which is truly terrifying because so many hospitals are already overwhelmed, and there aren't a lot of options for increasing capacity/personnel in the next two weeks. It's hard feeling so powerless, but we understand that the best way we can help is to stay home and do nothing.

Nationwide cases: 164,671. Deaths: 3,180.

covid diary: day 19

The first thing I read this morning was an utterly heartbreaking account of Tony Sizemore, a man in Indianapolis who lost his wife, Birdie Shelton, to COVID-19. She was the first casualty in Indiana. She worked for a rental car company at the airport, so she was in and out of cars a lot, and the assumption is that she picked up the virus from touching a steering wheel or something that was contaminated. Anyway, she started having a cough and fever, and they treated it at home, until a few days later, when she started having trouble breathing and asked to be taken to the ER. She never went back home. In the space of one week, this man went from having a normal life to being a widower who couldn't even say goodbye to his spouse because they were both in quarantine. Here's just a little snippet of his account:

She was taking so much oxygen, but it was never enough. She had two little tubes put in her nose, and she couldn’t get enough air. They put a big mask on her face to get her oxygen back up, and that made her claustrophobic and panicky. She got real freaked out. I tried to count breaths with her. I kept saying: “Easy. Easy. In, out. In, out.” I couldn’t distract her because she was so deep in her head with panic. It labored her to talk. It labored her to breathe. I said, “Don’t talk then, honey. Save your energy.” There was a TV in there, but neither of us could focus on it. I sat in the quiet with her, for whatever comfort that might have brought her. I don’t know. I listened to her breathing. I watched her. When she was asleep she was taking these real quick, short breaths, like she was gulping air more than breathing it. When she was awake, she was kind of mumbling to herself. Maybe it was the medication they were giving her. I hope to God it was the medication. She was talking about how her eyes hurt, her insides hurt. She would clutch her fists and hit the bed and stuff, and you don’t really know how to help somebody in that frame. I mean, when she’s just clutching her fists and moaning and — I don’t know. I don’t know what I could have done. I sat there for as long as I could and then I got up every few hours to pace the hallway, or I’d drive eight minutes home to feed the dogs. I was starting to go a little crazy myself. I couldn’t keep sitting there, feeling helpless, listening to her breathe. 

It was an awful time. I should be thankful she’s not suffering anymore, but she did suffer some.

This morning, as usual, I was up before everyone else, so I took my coffee and my kindle outside with the dogs to try to enjoy the quiet. But factors were working against me. It was pretty windy, and the temperature, which started around 50, dropped to around 40. I thought about turning the fire pit on, but decided against it, and instead went inside and started ironing the curtains to rehang them in the library. Once Mike got up, he and the boys reinstalled the trim and bookcases, and then I spent the rest of the afternoon sorting, alphabetizing, and shelving. It was comforting in a way, and made me think very much of the years I spent working at Borders.

Since it is Sunday, my colleagues and I also spent the day in a nervous holding pattern, waiting to see how many hours, if any, we would be given for work this week. We were in suspense until late afternoon, when the boss emailed us all and said we would stick with a reduced schedule of 30 hours this week. He also said that the company is exploring its options for small business assistance under the relief bill, so that was a hopeful note. I'm thankful to still have a job at all right now, and I'm terrified that it won't be that way for very long, a sentiment echoed by my colleagues. And my colleague and friend Jill shared that her son, who recently returned home from college in New Orleans, likely has COVID-19. He can't get a test, of course, because his symptoms aren't severe enough as of now, but their doctor says that's almost certainly what it is. So she has additional layers of worry and stress for her son, as well as for the rest of the family, because they're all in the same house, so chances are good that they will all get it.

Today the president decided (wisely, for once) to extend the national social distancing recommendation to the end of April. He has given up on reopening the country and getting people to crowd into churches for Easter Sunday, and now he's talking about how it will be a sign of a job well done if only 100,000 to 200,000 Americans die during this pandemic. Only that many. Meanwhile, he has repeatedly referenced how his press conferences get higher television ratings than the reality TV show The Bachelor. And while he's obsessing about his ratings and not doing anything to protect people or to initiate a national supply chain for tests and medical devices and personal protective equipment, people like Birdie Shelton are dying alone, isolated in hospital rooms. While the president spent his day touting his ratings and belittling reporters who quote his own words to him and ask him to explain his actions, for 374 Americans, it was their last day alive. I can't forget that, and neither should you.

Nationwide cases: 142,649. Deaths: 2,575.

covid diary: day 18

We woke up to thunder and lightning, the first thunderstorms of the season. Henry texted me from his room (insert eyeroll here) because he wasn't sure what that booming was that pulled him out of a sound sleep. Once the rain calmed down a little, I looked out and discovered that Liam's chicken friend (I'm calling it Houdini) had wandered over from next door again and spent some time in our pasture. It stayed there most of the day, content to wander among the red-winged blackbirds and safe from the dogs.

Mike got up early and went to the grocery store, where most things are back in stock, even though there are still limits to how many of each item you can purchase. Those limits don't apply to salmon, apparently, because the guy in line in front of Mike bought every package of frozen salmon in the store, along with his regular groceries, and spent something like $380. These are strange times indeed.

Today was mostly a work day around the house. Mike spent the morning and early afternoon putting the new subfloor in the library, and I spent the rest of the afternoon/evening laying the carpet. We're excited about how that project is turning out! There's still some work to be done putting everything back together, though — it's no small feat to move that many books in and out to be able to work in there!

In the afternoon, Avalon called and asked if we were home, then we both laughed and laughed and laughed because where else would we be? She and Lee made "quarantine survival kits" for the boys, and she wanted to bring them over. So they came with Jack, parked at the end of our driveway, and "hid" each kit in the yard for the boys to find. Then they left, and Lon facetimed the boys to tell them the hunt was on and to give them the rules (I particularly enjoy the "you must share" rule, which benefits me directly). The boys found their booty outdoors, and came back in and opened their packages excitedly. It was such a thoughtful thing for Lon and Lee and Jack to do! DAY. MADE.

Throughout the day, of course, we watched the news and kept up with updates online. The situation nationally continues to be grim, and the leadership at the federal level continues to be nonexistent. In the absence of a coordinated federal response, states are left to bid against each other (and against the federal government!) to try to purchase masks, gowns, ventilators, and other equipment. Meanwhile, 482 people died today from COVID-19, and there were 19,748 new cases diagnosed. It's horrifying to watch this crisis unfold, knowing that sooner or later someone I know will be directly impacted. Today, after their extremely thoughtful gift drop, Lon and Lee learned that Lee's aunt, who lives in Florida, tested positive. This is especially alarming because Lee's dad and many of his siblings, including this aunt, have a rare genetic form of COPD. So her lung function is already compromised, and now she has to deal with this respiratory virus that she has no immunity to. Keep her (and everyone else) in your thoughts, friends.

covid diary: day 17

This morning Henry and I wandered the yard, looking for signs of spring. There are some flowers blooming by the front door, and we found some tiny flowers all the way back by the woods at the back of the pasture, but that's about it. We did see a lot of birds and hear a lot of birdsong. Some swallows are fighting the sparrows for one of the birdhouses, so Mike will be happy. (He's been quite displeased that the sparrows have displaced the bluebirds, and he's been talking about building bluebird houses of a new design to discourage the sparrows.) Two hours after we came back inside, I found a true sign of spring: a tick crawling on Henry's arm. Eeek.

Today in New York City, the 911 system became so overwhelmed that operators had to put most calls on lengthy holds. It was taking up to three hours to get an ambulance. It got so bad that in the afternoon, the city started putting out the word that only people who were having trouble breathing or having acute heart issues should call 911.

Other areas of the country continue to be hit very hard, especially New Orleans, Detroit, Washington state, and California. In despicable news, the president (yes, the same one who signed a $2 trillion relief bill, then turned around and issued a signing statement declaring that he would reject any efforts at congressional oversight of which corporations get bailed out) said that he expects all the governors to show him a high level of appreciation. In fact, he ordered members of the coronavirus task force, notably the vice president, not to return calls from governors who failed to show enough appreciation of him personally. "You know what I say? If they don’t treat you right, I don’t call," he told reporters at his daily briefing. He has also insulted specific governors, specifically Gov. Inslee of Washington and Gov. Whitmer of Michigan, and insinuated that their states will get no relief because those Democratic governors have been critical of Trump's policies in the past. Meanwhile, people are dying in those states, and health care workers are overwhelmed and under-protected. It's unconscionable.

Overnight, the death toll in Indiana went from 17 to 24, and the number of positive cases in our county went from one to four. Those numbers don't seem terrible, until you consider the ratios and the exponential growth curve. When you consider those factors, it seems inevitable that things will get much, much worse here. We may never get to New York levels of pandemic (let's hope we don't!) but it doesn't have to be that bad to be very bad indeed.

covid diary: day 16

Today was a quiet day, which is a good thing right now. We're cozy and relatively well protected at home (with the exception of Mike's ongoing exposure at work), and honestly, the biggest news today was that Radu's chicken wandered over from next door and Liam had to rescue it from the dogs and carry it back over and set it free on the right side of the fence.

So things are good at home, but we keep watching the news and seeing how not-great they are in the world generally. Late this afternoon, the United States officially became the country with the most confirmed cases of COVID-19, despite our ongoing shortage of testing kits. And that right there is the thought that keeps me in a perpetual state of anxiety: We have an ongoing shortage of testing kits. People across the country who clearly have all the symptoms are unable to get tested unless their symptoms get really bad. So now we have at least 86,140 cases that are bad enough to have been tested. What does the real number look like? I'm also seeing reports that the official death totals don't match what health care providers are seeing in their hospitals (for example, a doctor might note that three people died of obvious COVID-19 complications, but only one person makes it to the official report). This is partly because they can't afford to waste test kits on people who have died, so some of them will never be counted. Their families will never know their true cause of death, and we'll never know the true scope of this pandemic. Our toll today stands at 1,308, but who knows how many more there really are.

covid diary: day 15

Today the Senate has been negotiating a stimulus/relief package that would distribute $2.2 trillion to workers, corporations, industries, and other groups in need. It's been quite a process. In short, the Republicans want to focus on giving bailouts to huge corporations. They've included $500 billion that they wanted the Treasury secretary to just be able to hand out to whatever corporations he deems worthy. The Democrats, recognizing that this is a very bad idea, have fought for independent oversight of the process, along with increased unemployment insurance for workers, and funding for educational and cultural institutions that have been hit hard by this crisis. The Democrats are fighting for funding for health care, for small businesses, and (crucially) for mail-in voting so we can retain a democracy at the end of this. By the end of the day, a deal had been reached that both sides could be happy with, but four Republican senators were threatening to hold up the process because they said people would "want" to be laid off if the unemployment benefits were so good. It's the height of stupidity.

New York continues to be the epicenter of the crisis, with hospitals full and people dying and nurses wearing literal garbage bags because they lack the proper personal protective equipment. Refrigerated semi trucks are being used as temporary morgues because the permanent morgues are full. The Javits Convention Center, where Hillary Clinton would have given her election night victory speech if the world were sane, is now a temporary hospital for the overflow of patients with COVID-19. But it's not just New York. New Orleans has reported that up to 50 percent of EMS workers are in quarantine after revelers spread the coronavirus far and wide during Mardi Gras. California and Washington continue to have big outbreaks, and Florida is showing worrying signs too.

Meanwhile, at home, work continues to slow way down for me. It's hard not knowing if I will get more hours cut (inevitably), and if/when things will get back to normal, or at least a semblance of normal. Mike will be on "vacation" next week, so the plan is to just stay at home, stay safe, do our part to interrupt the spread of this. Late this afternoon, our county announced the first official case here, though I suspect it's been spreading unchecked all over the place while testing has been either unavailable or limited to such an extent that it might as well be unavailable. These are absolutely terrifying times.

Stay safe, friends.

Nationwide cases: 69,222. Deaths: 1,050.

covid diary: day 14

Today the president said he wants the country to be reopened by Easter, which is something like 19 days from now. I do not think that's in any way feasible, and sending people back out to work that soon will cause more deaths and damage the economy as much or more as a shutdown would. The lieutenant governor of Texas, meanwhile, went on TV to say that he's sure that grandparents across America are willing to risk their lives in service of keeping the economy going for the next generations. An informal survey of the grandparents I know concludes that the lieutenant governor of Texas is 100% full of shit.

Meanwhile, Andrew Cuomo, governor of New York, continues to be a strong voice of actual leadership in his daily press briefings. I watch them just to be reassured that somewhere there is a real leader taking real actions to try to save Americans. I refuse to watch the White House press briefings anymore; they're basically just propaganda and lies at this point. If something true is said, I'll read about it after the fact, but I'm not giving that clown any more attention than necessary when he doesn't even listen to the pandemic experts on his own team.

In news that may not shock you but absolutely disappointed/enraged me, Mike's company is exploiting a loophole (they're not an essential manufacturer, but they do make a few components used by other manufacturers that can be considered essential) so that they don't have to close down. So the managers went around yesterday telling people they still need to report for work every day, and writing down the names of people who are unhappy with the decision so they can talk to HR. The "compromise" option they came up with for people who don't feel safe coming to work, or who simply want to abide by the governor's stay at home order, is that they will have to use up any vacation/personal time they have, then they will be allowed to take unpaid time, but in that case they must pay the company back for any health insurance/benefits during the unpaid time. Ah yes, I can see how that must have taken a huge concession from them. Anyway, Mike is going to try to take vacation for the next week or so to get us through to the end of the governor's stay at home order, and then we'll see where things stand. If I were in the business of making predictions, I would say that by the time the order is officially over (April 7), the state will be much further in crisis, and the governor will extend the order and/or add new restrictions in an effort to stop the spread. Just since yesterday, the number of deaths nearly doubled (from 7 to 12), and the number of confirmed infections in the state went up by more than 100.

Nationwide, the numbers are even more grim: 55,236 cases and 802 deaths (more than 200 deaths since yesterday). This is serious, friends, and I really wish everyone would take it seriously.

covid diary: day 13

Today at noon, Gov. Holcomb announced a stay-at-home order for the state starting at midnight Wednesday. All non-essential businesses are supposed to shut down so everyone can stay at home. You would think that would include the factory Mike works at, right? Demand is way down because the industry it services has basically shut down its high season. However, as of when Mike left work this afternoon, management was still debating the legality of staying open. The legality of it. Not whether staying open would put more people in danger. Not whether those people would then go back out into their families, their communities, and spread that danger. They're worried about whether it's legal to stay open.

And frankly, that sucks. Yes, it would be great if Mike could keep drawing a paycheck. But that's not the only consideration at play. He's the only one leaving home on a regular basis, but even that puts all of us at risk. A few people he works with have spouses who are sick enough to warrant testing, but those people are still coming to work ... on the advice of management. If nothing else, this pandemic is certainly exposing how little workers' lives actually mean in the face of corporate interests.

On the home front, today is the first day of official spring break, so no school. Liam had 90 minutes of one-on-one driving instruction this morning, and was supposed to finish his mandated 6 hours this week, but that's canceled now in light of the governor's announcement. Life is kind of ... on hold. For everyone. We got to facetime with my mom and Jack earlier, and also with Erin and the kids. It was lovely to see everyone's faces and just have a little bit of normal conversation.

Nationwide cases: 46,910. Deaths: 594.

covid diary: day 12

Well, today I got the email I've been dreading: my job got cut from 40 to 30 hours per week. Not gonna lie, losing 25% of my income will be a big hit for us, and it doesn't look like I have any other side gigs lined up right now. I kind of figured this was coming, and I'm very glad my boss chose to cut my hours instead of letting me (or my colleagues) go entirely. We're okay for now, and we've got everything we need, but it's worrisome because as a part of the "gig economy" I won't qualify for unemployment even if my company does entirely shut down eventually. So let's sincerely hope that doesn't happen.

In today's news, Rand Paul (R-Kentucky) became the first senator to test positive for COVID-19. He's a doctor (optometrist) and he knew he was awaiting test results, but he still had lunch Friday with all his Republican colleagues, and he still went to the Senate gym and pool this morning, potentially exposing a lot of other people to the virus (not just other senators, but the people who work at the Senate gym, in the Senate itself, and wherever it was they had their luncheon -- and those people likely don't have that great health care members of Congress enjoy). So Dr. Rand Paul gets a failing grade, both for how to act in a health crisis and for how to be a decent human being.

Nationally, we're above 33,000 cases, and 416 people have died (69 people just today, and the day's not done yet). I've seen reports of people my age with no underlying health conditions being put on life support. Yes, many of the people who will die are older, but a lot of people aren't that old. I'm not that old. On the other end of the spectrum, I saw a report today that a 7-month-old baby in North Carolina tested positive for COVID-19 at the same time that his grandmother did. I hope that baby and grandmother will both end up with mild cases and be fine, and I'm grateful to the family for coming forward to raise awareness that this can make very young people quite sick as well.

It's been a quiet day at home as we digest our new circumstances and try to make plans to adjust. I did some work in the library today (yes, I know what a privilege it is to have a whole room dedicated to books!), and Mike's been busy cleaning. The boys are feeling the stress too, and we've been talking about making an extra effort to be kind to each other because we're in this together. Also of note, it's been snowing all afternoon (reminder: it's March 22); we're supposed to get 2 inches today/tonight. That makes staying inside more appealing, so at least there's that.

Hang in there, friends. This can't last forever ... I think.

covid diary: day 11

Today was filled with so many conflicting emotions.

On minus side, Mike went to do the weekly grocery shop and reported that the store is still totally cleaned out of many necessary items. There was no chicken, no ground beef, practically no meat of any kind, just an empty case with a sign of the times.

He had trouble finding bread, sausage, frozen foods, pretty much anything that would have an expiration date far enough out to keep us stocked for a couple weeks. We're okay for now because we have some things in reserve in the freezer, but as my sister Bethany said today, I probably should never again laugh at them for having separate freezers full of beef, chicken, and pork. They are much better prepared to weather this than we are.

On the plus side, we got to see (virtually and in person) many of our relatives for the first time in a couple weeks. We have really missed them! Bright and early this morning, the boys and I headed out to Fletcher Cemetery in Hamlet, where my mom is the sexton, for the annual cemetery cleanup day. This is usually a 4-H volunteer project, but the 4-H clubs are all restricted from meeting, so we volunteered to come add to the crew. It turned out to be a great morning. We were out in the fresh air, doing something good for the community, AND we got to see my parents and sisters (and Jack!) in person but still keep a safe distance so we don't put them at risk, or vice versa. Our crew ended up filling the back of a trailer completely with flowers and flags that didn't survive the winter intact.

My cousin Elly turned 9 today, and Laura was planning to have a party for her but ended up canceling it out of concern for everyone's safety. We dropped off a card for her, but Laura ended up coming up with a brilliant plan for a birthday in the time of coronavirus. First, we got a video of the family singing "Happy Birthday" to Elly and "blowing" out her candles by waving a magazine over them (so no droplet spread). Then, Laura sent a text to all the would-be attendees asking if they wanted some cake delivered. They portioned individual pieces and dropped them off on everyone's porches all over town. So we got to have our cake AND see Elly (via video) too!

And the night had one last surprise in store for us. Around 9:30, Bethany called and asked if we were still awake. When I said yes, she said "Good. I'm 10 minutes from your house, and I have a surprise for you."

I immediately sought clarification. "It's not a puppy, is it?"

Bethany laughed at me and assured me that it was not. A few minutes later, Henry and I went out to the driveway, and Bethany, Klaudia, and her boyfriend Jason delivered us a bag of Dilly Bars from Dairy Queen. She just handed them through the window, and off they went. It was a really sweet way to end another day in quarantine.

National cases: 26,898. Deaths: 346

covid diary: day 10

The boys did an extra cursive lesson last night because at midnight, a new game released, and they wanted to clear the decks for nonstop playing since there's no elearning today. Luckily, Liam asked for the preorder of the game for Christmas, and that's what he got from my parents, so they had this to look forward to. But first they had to tackle the hurdle of a, d, and c.

Meanwhile, life keeps going. Work has been very slow for me, and it's a little worrisome, but I'm trying to just keep my head down and focus on getting through this. Everyone else is struggling too, and this is going to get far worse before it gets better. I'm glad we're at the end of the workweek, so we can have a couple of days to decompress a little bit and just be together. I worry every day about Mike going in to work because I don't think many of his coworkers are interested in taking appropriate precautions (in fact, one of his supervisors is married to a person awaiting results from a COVID-19 test, and that supervisor keeps saying dumb shit like "it won't affect most people, everything's fine, I can still come to work"). True, "most" people will experience mild symptoms, but the point is to prevent it from spreading to protect the people who will experience more than that. There's so much disinformation coming from the top that people don't really know what to believe, so they choose to believe whatever allows them to continue on with business as usual. Which, of course, is exactly what's causing this seemingly unstoppable spread.

I don't have much in the way of hopeful words today, so I'll just leave it at that.

National cases: 19, 716. Deaths: 274

covid diary: day 9

I just finished watching the governor of Indiana give a press conference. It was ... wow. First of all, it was a serious contrast to the national briefings that have been happening every day. There were seven people on the stage, including the ASL interpreter, with everyone standing an appropriate distance apart. There was no constant pandering to the governor. Everyone just walked up to the microphone, said their piece, and stepped back. It was efficient and devastatingly effective.

Among the announcements: All schools statewide are closed until at least May 1. AT LEAST. They may go back after that, but the governor characterized that as a "miracle." If they do go back, they go back to learn -- all standardized testing has been canceled for the rest of the year, with no penalties to schools or teachers. Deadlines for state taxes and property taxes have been extended. The governor encourages Hoosiers who qualify to apply for unemployment right away if they get laid off. In the past three days, 22,583 people have filed for unemployment in the state. IN THREE DAYS. Courts are hearing emergency cases only. (Avalon got that adoption done just in the nick of time! Thank the heavens.) Our hospitals have a good supply of personal protective equipment but are encouraging providers to conserve it because there will likely be shortages later. They're talking about setting up coronavirus-specific areas for testing and treatment so emergency rooms don't get overwhelmed. The governor supports postponing the May primary election, but details have not been worked out yet.

This is how we live now.

On the home front, elearning continues. Today's cursive lesson was the letters e, j, and p. And I offered treats as an incentive.

Henry's been helping with some home improvement projects. This morning, he helped me load up some old furniture to take to the curb, including a leather chair that we got from Chris 15 years ago, after she had it at her house for 15 years. It served us well and faithfully, but it's time for it to go. But of course, Henry took it for one last spin (out to the end of the driveway, throne style).

Mike is still going to work, but all overtime has stopped, and there may be a round of layoffs. They're not planning to shut down for any period of time, though, unless the state mandates it. (And you know what? After today's press conference, I wouldn't be surprised if they do.)

I'll leave you with one last note. Remember the other day when I was wishfully imagining all the governors in a conference call where they all decide to take control and show some leadership in the absence of a comprehensive national response? I WAS RIGHT, YOU GUYS. Gov. Holcomb mentioned today that he was on a conference call with 30 other governors last night where they were all talking about the challenges they're facing and what steps they can take at the state level. Gov. Holcomb (R) specifically name-checked Gov. Cuomo (D) of New York, so this is a bipartisan group of governors working together for the common good. This is the America I want to see!

And I'll leave you with Gov. Holcomb's words from today's conference: "Well, I think that's a wrap on a slow news day. Anyone have any questions?"

Nationwide, as of 2:45 p.m. Eastern: 11,403 cases, 169 deaths.