The World Has Officially Become Strange in My Absence

I went out the other day. And I don't just mean outside for some fresh air, either. I literally masked up, got in an Uber, and ran an errand before Ubering back home. I've voluntarily done almost everything I need to from home for years at this point, so up until now, I've been able to stay the hell away from the outside world without changing much about my routine. And honestly, I would have been happy to continue that way indefinitely, but I needed to get a new ID and couldn't avoid visiting a DMV field office in person.

The DMV errand went just fine, but holy shit, has the world ever gotten weird in my absence. I'm, of course, well aware of how things have changed since the last time I was out frolicking around, never even having heard of COVID before. I knew what to expect in every way. But this was my first time seeing it all with my actual eyes and experiencing it in person. Seth came with me and also hasn't been out since the pandemic began, so I at least wasn't alone when it came to the perceived weirdness of it all.

It's one thing to know everyone masks up and social distances now, pretty much as a rule. It's another thing to actually visit places I've been to plenty of times before and see people doing it. It was a strangely similar experience to nightmares I've had in the past. In these nightmares, I'd visit places I either knew very well or had found very comforting in the past, but something vital would be wrong with them, suggesting it only looked like I was where I was supposed to be. 

My sense of direction has always been terrible, so getting lost was one of my most persistent childhood fears. When I'm anxious, I still dream about it in various contexts, especially those that suggest I might just have to stay lost forever. So seeing definitive proof that COVID really has touched my town -- the place where I grew up and have lived off and on for most of my life -- was a little strange. I can actually kind of see why so many people have so much trouble accepting this reality and choose to deny it altogether because they don't know what else to do.

On Vaccine Availability and Coronavirus Anxiety

A few days ago, California officially opened up the availability of the coronavirus vaccine to everyone over the age of 16. That means Seth and I can, in theory, go and get ourselves vaccinated as soon as I can get us appointments. In actuality, though, we will probably be waiting at least a little while for some of the rush to die down a bit. The fewer people we have to be around to get this done, the better.

Before the pandemic hit, it had already been many years since I went out regularly. I don't drive or like being around people, so it's almost always easier to stay home and order the things I need online while running my business and handling my other responsibilities around the house. Strangely, though, I never developed any real anxiety about being out in public. If I felt like it, I could easily head out to the county fair, or the beach, or something, have a great time, and probably even want to go back the next day. 

I feel entirely differently about all that today for obvious reasons. Now, when I see other people, I no longer see minorly annoying fellow humans that might -- at worst -- try to suck me into a boring conversation I don't really want to have. I see walking, talking meat-bags filled with germs and death that can absolutely kill me, especially if they're not masked up properly. And I feel like the outside world has become a dangerous place I'm best off avoiding. I'm not embarrassed to admit that I find the idea of getting COVID (or seeing anyone I care about get it) positively terrifying.

In other words, while I'm grateful to be able to have access to a vaccine, I'm hyper-aware of the fact that to get vaccinated in the first place, I will first have to go out unvaccinated into that big, bad world filled with walking, talking germ bags at least twice. And so will Seth. Naturally, I have a lot of anxiety about that on both counts, especially when it comes to Seth. I still have nightmares about the time he almost died in the hospital of pneumonia years ago. I also realize I'm far more worried about him getting sick and leaving me all alone in the world than I am about getting sick myself, although that would also suck.

On Turning Forty-Fucking-Five

So, it's my birthday tomorrow. I'm hoping it's a vast improvement on last year's, and so far, so good. As I'm sure everyone remembers all too well, right about this time last year, COVID officially reached pandemic status. Everyone was panic-buying toilet paper, pasta, beans, and just about anything else they could get their hands on. And, like everyone else, I was having terrible trouble even wrapping my mind around the fact that we were facing a fucking plague of biblical proportions.

Unfortunately for us, we were almost entirely out of food at the time, as I was waiting until closer to my birthday to do some shopping. That turned out to be a huge mistake, as none of the stores had a damn thing left. Not even a can of beans or a package of hamburger, let alone the lobster ravioli and pesto sauce I wanted for my birthday dinner or the corned beef I wanted for St. Patrick's Day. I somehow managed to score a lemon bundt cake for dessert, but that's all, and the pickings stayed pretty slim around here for a while.

I've been hyper-paranoid about running out of food ever since. I was never someone who believed the fridge and pantry had to be stuffed as full as possible to feel like there was enough to eat, but now I totally am. I'm still careful not to waste food and to make sure everything gets eaten promptly, but I grocery shop every week now, whether we really need it or not. I'm also extra-prepared this year for all our upcoming festivities. I have a heritage-breed ham and a corned beef hanging out in the freezer for Easter and St. Patrick's Day, respectively. And you bet your ass I have that lobster ravioli and fresh pesto I didn't get last year in the fridge already.

I'm turning 45 this year, which just feels plain odd. I still think of 45 as my parents' age, even though they're both well into their 70s by now. I've loved being in my 40s for the most part, though. I'm saner, more grounded, and more grateful at this age by a landslide. I actually stick with things that I start now -- positive things like daily exercise, balanced eating, productive writing routines, and regular quality time spent with my husband. I feel dangerously close to being one of those people who have their shit together, and it's a nice feeling after being so restless and undisciplined most of my life. 

The Peace and the Stillness of It All

Things slowly appear to be drifting back into "normal" territory as far as all the quarantine measures go. This is although COVID-19 hasn't actually gone anywhere, nor have people stopped contracting it or dying from it. No vaccine has been developed, nor has any concrete plan been put in place to avoid a second wave. It's almost like the government and everyone else more or less decided to shrug and go "oh well". 

That makes me nervous. You'd think it would be making other people nervous too, especially if they work outside their homes or have to interact much with the general public to earn a living. I am exceedingly grateful that I don't have to and, to be honest, this whole pandemic has shown me just how right I've always been to simply be my naturally reclusive self to whatever extent I can. At this point, something about me others have always thought of as a personality flaw might literally mean the difference between life and death.

This has given me some food for thought in regards to how other people's minds work as well. I don't think I realized just how dependent others are on being highly interactive with the rest of society. They apparently count on others for everything, so not being able to go out and consort adds up to a complete disruption in their lives.

For instance, I don't think I realized just how many other people -- especially other women -- don't manage their own grooming routines. I knew I was unusual for insisting on cutting and coloring my own hair, but I don't think I fully realized everyone's also paying people to do their nails (even if they don't wear acrylics), groom their eyebrows, extend their eyelashes, keep their bodies free of unwanted hair, and so much more. No wonder everybody complains about being broke all the time.  

Many Departures

I never feel like I have that much going on in my life until I actually sit down to blog when it's been a while. It really makes me realize the extent to which time flies. My cat died not long after my last post. She was on the older side and hadn't been doing that well for a while, so it wasn't completely unexpected. It managed to be wholly devastating anyway though. 

I'm not the sort of person that supports wallowing in emotions like grief or disappointment -- or at least not to the point where it starts to feel like it's doing you more harm than good -- but I can't lie. This has been really hard for me. I've had many pets over the years, but Ched was just special. She's pretty much the only living being I've ever known that I can honestly say never seemed to feel anything toward me but love. It's done me so much good to know that any living thing could really embrace me unconditionally like that because it's certainly more than I can say for even the best humans in my life.

And as tough as it can be to feel sad for the loss of both big and little souls that touch lives, I've realized there's a positive side to grief. It's your proof that you experienced someone and something worth missing. I've literally had whole-ass family members and so-called good friends exit this planet without eliciting so much as a tear from me, let alone full-force grief, but looking back on those relationships, I'm not surprised. They were never there for me. They never laughed with me or cried with me. They never actually acted like they loved me or cared about being part of my life. And to be honest, the feeling was mutual. 

I know a lot of animals are unconditionally loving and loyal -- one reason I've always preferred them to people -- but Ched was that to an unusual degree. She did nothing but love me, even when I got frustrated, irritated, or downright angry with her. I worry that I wasn't always as nice to her as she deserved, but I'm sure she had to have known how loved she was regardless. I tried to show her as much as I could and to the extent that I know how. 

On Life in Lockdown and Stimulus Checks

At this point, we've all been doing the lockdown thing so long, I think a lot of us have forgotten what life was like before. Or at least I have. At this point, I'm used to this virus being a thing. I'm used to having to plan ahead more when buying groceries to make sure we have the things we need when we need them. I'm used to thinking twice before I consider going out in public (on the rare occasion it even crosses my mind).

I stay home all the time as a rule. I work at home for myself, I entertain myself at home, I pay other people to do all my shopping for me, and my social life starts and stops at social media, so the whole social distancing thing hasn't been hard for me at all. My life as a whole is largely unchanged from what it was. In fact, I could do this whole social distancing thing indefinitely, to be really honest.

Other people are another story though. They don't know how to cope with not being able to see their friends in person, go out for drinks, or spend time in public whenever they feel like it. Most of them are going stir-crazy, half from cabin fever and the other half from genuine stress over coronavirus and the very real risk of serious illness it brings with it. Some are deeply depressed and others are climbing the walls like little children.

I have to confess that the snob in me isn't impressed. As an extreme introvert and long-time voluntary recluse, I've always had people telling me how weird I am for finding it hard to fit into the rest of the world as easily as everyone else always has. It's nice (not to mention interesting) to be the one who's handling everything fine for the change. It's been very nice to be in a position to tell others to just suck it up and do what's necessary for a change.

It's not exactly earning me any friends though. In fact, it's lost me a few so far -- no one noteworthy or important so far, just more hopeless loser types leftover from my LiveJournal days whom I won't miss.

On COVID-19 and Quarantine Life

So far 2020 has been quite the trip. We're only a couple of days into April, but I feel like so many monumental things have been happening lately, both in general and personally speaking. Right now, life for just about everyone in the world is all about the novel coronavirus and the potentially deadly disease that it causes, COVID-19. 

These were things I'd technically heard of the last time I posted here in that I knew they were big deals in China, as well as several countries in Europe. We also knew there were a few cases here in the United States, but I simply assumed COVID-19 would be like Ebola, or the swine flu, or the bird flu, or any of those other super-bugs that made headlines and then disappeared long before they ever managed to touch my life. I didn't think it was even worth paying attention to at the time, let alone actually worrying about or planning for. After all, that sort of thing was for conspiracy theorists and paranoid people like my father and brother, right?

Cut to today. Most of the country is on partial or total lockdown to slow the spread of the virus because it's been spreading relentlessly, as well as killing people right and left. Monterey County, as well as the whole state of California, is under a shelter-in-place order, meaning we're all supposed to stay at home unless we absolutely need to go do something essential like buy groceries or go to the doctor. Non-essential businesses are either closed or struggling to adapt to doing business at a distance. Until very recently, people were panic-buying shelf-stable groceries and essential goods (e.g. toilet paper, beans, and pasta) to the point where grocery store shelves were bare. Even Amazon was out of stock on such things.