covid diary: day 8

Today we had to take Pluto to the vet. It was not a big-deal appointment. He's got allergies, and every spring they hit him and he gets ear infections and skin infections. We took him and Thunder in two weeks ago for grooming, and $300 later we came out with immunizations for Thunder, and an ear infusion, antibiotics, and allergy meds for Pluto. Today he had to get a second (scheduled) ear infusion.

I mention this because in the era of COVID-19, even the vet is taking smart precautions. Here's how the visit went. We arrived at the vet's office (Liam was driving, because driver's ed goes on even in the end times) and parked in a numbered spot. I sent a text to the office staff letting them know my name, Pluto's name, and the number of our parking spot. They sent back a thumbs up, then they did all the administrative stuff inside before sending someone out to the car to retrieve Pluto. They took him inside, did the infusion, and brought him back out while we waited in the car. Then we sat in the parking lot for another minute while I gave my credit card information to them over the phone. They emailed me a receipt.

This is how we live now.

Today in learning cursive, we tackled lowercase t, i, and u. Henry made his first word, "lit," which he was very excited about. We now have the letters l, h, k, t, i, and u. I had Liam and Max make some words with those letters too. I gave them some ideas, including some that were on the risque side. I'll leave you to figure out what those might have been.

Mike stopped at the grocery store on his way home from work. Still no ground beef, chicken, toilet paper, etc. He sent me this photo from the store:

One thing I will say about this period of isolation: It's so much less isolating than it could be. We have email. We have texting. We have FaceTime. We can see each other's faces, and it helps us not feel alone. I've talked to both of my great-aunts in the past day, one via email and one via Facebook comments. I worry about them because they are in vulnerable groups, and it helps to hear from them. Aunt Rita says she's mailing some cursive writing assignments to the boys. Aunt Marlene says she doesn't think cursive writing is necessary, but she also noted that Gram had absolutely lovely penmanship. (It's true!) Aunt Marlene went to a theater in NYC where an usher later tested positive for coronavirus, so she's been in self-quarantine so as not to expose other, more vulnerable people in her family group. Thankfully, she says she's feeling fine.

In some ways, all the information we're getting is terrifying. I can sit at my computer and watch the infection and death tolls go up before my eyes. (As of right now, the U.S. is at 9,041 infections, 146 deaths.) We can see what's coming, and we feel powerless to stop it. But I also think about people in pre-internet pandemics, and I think about how terrifying it must have been to have a novel virus in, say, 1918. (Side note: This is the so-called "Spanish flu." Contrary to popular belief, it isn't called that because it originated in Spain; the first known case was reported at a military base in Kansas, USA, March 11, 1918. It's called "Spanish flu" because Spain sounded the alarm to warn the public about this devastating virus. Other countries were embroiled in World War I and had wartime censorship in full effect, but Spain was neutral, so Spanish media outlets were free to report on it. No good deed goes unpunished, I guess.) Most people didn't know what was coming until they saw their friends and family members getting sick and dying around them. This is so stressful, but I will always, ALWAYS choose to know what's coming so I can do whatever I can to mitigate it.

Stay safe, friends.