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My Corona. (That time my world stopped)

Winter, 2020: Pandemic!

I was in the Dubai airport the first time I heard about people getting sick in China. On TV, President Trump was asked if he was concerned about the new disease. He responded, “No, not at all. And we have it totally under control. It’s one person coming in from China … It’s going to be just fine.”

By the time I got back to Scotland, everyone was starting to stockpile hoard prepare.

Desperate to keep ourselves and families safe, we put our faith in dangerous promises.

Really, really dangerous promises.

Spring 2020: Pandemic adjustment

We began to reassess old priorities.

Social filters started slipping.

Working from home meant mastering new technologies. Or not.

But it also meant neighbors pulling together and helping each other. At least that’s how it worked as almost our whole little Scottish island of Arran joined forces to make and deliver free facemasks to all who needed them. I’ve never been more proud to call a place home.

Summer 2020: Pandemic fails.

Containment as a policy is a failure, and lockdowns are imposed worldwide. Suddenly, families who barely spoke under normal circumstances were forced to shelter together. The pressure of so many months of enforced togetherness began to take its toll…

Some couldn’t handle life without their spiritual devotion rituals…

The Hub and I realized how isolated we really were. Home alone, just the two of us and… the fridge.

Alcohol worked amazingly well.

But loyalty between shut-ins only lasted as long as the Ben & Jerry’s.

Autumn 2020: Pandemic ennui

We were suspicious of people who approached our isolated bubble.

Those who refused to mask or called for loosened restrictions were potential serial killers.

Winter 2020-2021: Endless Pandemic

I turned to Netflix for comfort, but movies were full of scary people with naked faces, trying to get close enough to spread disease and death.

The holidays came and went, the Hub and I sheltering with our socially responsible little 2020-Tree decorated with festive toilet rolls, facemasks, and hand sanitizer. We were all alone—except for the kids calling to interrogate us on our behavior and lecture on the dangers of irresponsible interactions with potential disease vectors neighbors. (I’m pretty sure they grounded us…)

Spring 2021: Alive!

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this vax of Oxford!
(Sorry, Will Shakespeare.)

The Hub got his jab and I waited for mine. And waited. And…

So what if my temp is 101F/38.3C, and my arm swelled up like a balloon with hot itchy rash? It just means Pfizer is working for me!

Summer 2021**: Pandemic? Recalled to Life!

That’s the subtitle of Book 1 of A Tale of Two Cities. The first lines are a great summation of my pandemic:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. —Charles Dickens, 1859 **

**Translation: FU Pandemic! There’s gelato out there with my name on it. [And yes, I do know the official first day of summer isn’t until 21 June. But my post-vax incarceration is up at the end of this week, and as far as I’m concerned it’s summer from then on out!]