Mar. 26th, 2020 02:35 pm
Living without
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muckefuckIt is very odd living under a regime of self-imposed scarcity. I'm not forgoing eating out and making my leftovers stretch to four or more meals because I'm trying to save money or because of shortages or because I'm too weak to walk. There's a grocery a block away that fully stocked and staffed and working its usual hours, and I'm simply choosing not to go there.
My reasons for that have subtly shifted over time. When this all began, I suspected I had a bigger-than-average chance of being a carrier, since I'm under 50 (barely) and in good health and up until last Tuesday was going to work somewhere which had six reported cases, so I was most concerned about passing the illness to others (such as my neighbour's mother).
Now, as I hear horror stories from survivors and watch the totals mount, I'm becoming more worried for myself. Based on the best data I can find, my chance of dying could be as low as 1/1000, which is damn god odds. But folks are talking about permanent lung damage and long hospitalisations, both of which are pretty frightening.
Still, part of me thinks, if I have to get sometime, why not now, before cases peak and flood the local hospitals? But I know it's only boredom and frustration which makes acute suffering seem preferable to unending dread. And even if I did have a relatively mild case, it still wouldn't necessarily change much if most of the world is still in waiting.
At least communication is something I don't have to ration. Phone calls, Zoom meetings, PMs, chats, socially-distant strolls, yelled conversations outside--I can basically have as many of these as I want. Yesterday I binged a bit, starting off with a "Virtual Donut Day" through work, followed by a solo stroll, a confab on the back porch, a brief voice chat with Nuphy, and finally a two-hour social videoconference with the Kaffeeklatsch Bears.
The last of these was particularly intense. The tenor was quite different from our previous get-together, where we talked mostly about food and appearance. This time it was all Corona. We traded rumours, speculations, and links to articles. We lamented the cancelled events and the loss of physical intimacy. Three of the participants were in other states and able to give us some outside perspective.
I didn't want to sign off when I did, but I knew I had to if I ever wanted to get to sleep and I wasn't surprised when I didn't sleep soundly and had crazy, potent dreams. I'm hardly surprised that I woke up feeling hungover and struggled to regain my routine. So I may need to impose some scarcity upon myself in this area, too, until I can figure out how best to incorporate it into my new life of hermitude.
My reasons for that have subtly shifted over time. When this all began, I suspected I had a bigger-than-average chance of being a carrier, since I'm under 50 (barely) and in good health and up until last Tuesday was going to work somewhere which had six reported cases, so I was most concerned about passing the illness to others (such as my neighbour's mother).
Now, as I hear horror stories from survivors and watch the totals mount, I'm becoming more worried for myself. Based on the best data I can find, my chance of dying could be as low as 1/1000, which is damn god odds. But folks are talking about permanent lung damage and long hospitalisations, both of which are pretty frightening.
Still, part of me thinks, if I have to get sometime, why not now, before cases peak and flood the local hospitals? But I know it's only boredom and frustration which makes acute suffering seem preferable to unending dread. And even if I did have a relatively mild case, it still wouldn't necessarily change much if most of the world is still in waiting.
At least communication is something I don't have to ration. Phone calls, Zoom meetings, PMs, chats, socially-distant strolls, yelled conversations outside--I can basically have as many of these as I want. Yesterday I binged a bit, starting off with a "Virtual Donut Day" through work, followed by a solo stroll, a confab on the back porch, a brief voice chat with Nuphy, and finally a two-hour social videoconference with the Kaffeeklatsch Bears.
The last of these was particularly intense. The tenor was quite different from our previous get-together, where we talked mostly about food and appearance. This time it was all Corona. We traded rumours, speculations, and links to articles. We lamented the cancelled events and the loss of physical intimacy. Three of the participants were in other states and able to give us some outside perspective.
I didn't want to sign off when I did, but I knew I had to if I ever wanted to get to sleep and I wasn't surprised when I didn't sleep soundly and had crazy, potent dreams. I'm hardly surprised that I woke up feeling hungover and struggled to regain my routine. So I may need to impose some scarcity upon myself in this area, too, until I can figure out how best to incorporate it into my new life of hermitude.
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