Apocalyptic Behavior

After nearly two weeks here, without going to the store, I finally went yesterday.

I thought I had it together.  I had my homemade mask.  I had my foaming pump soap.  I had some rubber dish gloves.  I had a pee pad to put in the bottom of the cart.  I had a plastic bag in my purse to receive dirty money (as change).  I do launder dirty money.  In my sink full of sudsy water.  I don't iron it yet.  I haven't gone that far into apocalyptic psychosis.  Not yet.  I had my Grocery Outlet heavy duty reusable plastic grocery bags, freshly washed and disinfected.  Thumbs up for me!

I shopped, for food items, wet cat food, and a laser pointer, for the cats, since I had only one left and the batteries are nearly dead on it too.  I was at Walmart, where no carts are cleaned before you take one.  If you want your cart clean you need to do it yourself.  And where most employees do not wear masks.  I went at 10:00 a.m., the time I've found few customers there.  That picks up about 11:00 a.m.

But by check out, my sterile procedure shopping fell apart.  I have to weigh vegetables on a self checkout that likely has not been cleaned between uses.  The last time I was there, an employee hovered near to clean it the moment I left but not this time.  I saw no cleaning going on between customer use of a self check out area.  Where were my self made clorox wipes?  Gosh darn I'd forgotten them.

 I dropped my list on the floor twice.  I dropped an item I was trying to scan on that floor.  The checker came up to me and said "There's almost no one here, take your time, don't worry."  So I took my time and finally got checked out.  I'm good for a couple weeks more now.

At home, I washed everything, I think I did anyhow, took off that hot mask and threw it in the wash.

I went to check my mail.  I only check it once a week now. What's the point?  I get bills and junk mail.  That's it.  Why would I be eager to find a bill in the mail?  So I put off the mail check at the lock box across the street.  I saw a neighbor lady out in the yard.  I hadn't seen her in a long time and shouted a greeting from half a block away.  She acted suspicious.  I should have taken that as a "Get the Fuck Away" but I didn't take the clue even though I was so far away from her  I couldn't have thrown a rock and had it come close to her.

I ask how she is.  And she tells me "good" and she tells me she goes shopping with her daughter and asks if I"m well, all suspicious like.  "I'm not sick," I assure her.  She says the people next to me are out and about way too much.  I think to myself, 'ok maybe I should just go back inside now."  She tells me how happy she is I removed the white lattice piece I had out front in my yard between two poles, set in five gallon buckets.  I don't say that I put that up originally to block her view of me, from her window to mine.  She continues on that I need to get rid of those poles now in the buckets.  I try to say they're set in deep and its hard to dig them out.  "Well you need to do that, because I have to look at them," she spouts on, with a sarcastic rueful giggle.   Shit, I think.  I don't say another word, but I have a lot of thoughts.  They're not good ones.

I felt dirty after I got back across the street and home.  I saw myself as she must see me--a crawling sea of writhing germs and with an unattractive yard to boot.  I looked at my cats, as they scratched at themselves, licked their butts and shook cat hair, dander and, likely----GERMS! out into the air I walk around within and breath!  Holy germ farm!  I got out the clorox and the mop and the bucket and went to town on my place, that I'd just cleaned two hours before.  "Don't lick your butt," I yelled, startling little old Shady, like any cat would ever listen to the likes of me. 

I made my own air cleaner.  My older brother and I had talked often about my need for an air purifier here with all the cat hair and litter dust floating around, how that compounds my allergies, particularly my dust allergy. I used to wear a dust mask when cleaning but you can't buy those now anywhere so I resort to using a bandana.  I was looking at the air purifiers again online.  They're so expensive and then once you get one, filter replacement is expensive.  I thought, 'I'm just going to jump over to Youtube and check out DIY's.' 

Sure enough, here's an earnest guy in a white lab coat with some sort of measuring device, and several air purifiers.  He dutifully measures the output air for various things on each, then switches to check the output level of a purifier he made, from a box fan with a Merv 13 HVAC filter taped to it.  Readings are pretty much the same as the air output from the most expensive air purifer.  Ah ha!

I bought one of those cheap 20x20 box fans at Walmart and also a 16x20x1 filter.  They didn't have 20x20 ones, which would have completely covered the fan.  Here's the result.  I like it.  I have the fan hanging off the upper bunk, so the cats can't knock it over and a whisp of dust could knock over those unwieldy fans.  Air purifier for under $25.

I also have too many extra carriers, since I am no longer housing and transporting cats.  So I got another carrier shelf.  This four shelf plastic unit was also under $20.

Later in the late afternoon as the sun was crawling down toward the horizon, I met my friend in a parking lot at Lowe's.  She had wanted to have coffee, her in her car, me in mine, a parking space apart, to at least have some conversation.  Her husband is driving her nuts.   Lets face it, being confined to a small space with a difficult man, isn't an apocalyptic utopia.

We were going to Dutch Brothers, her in her car, me in mine.  But the line was incredibly long, so she texted me to meet her in the Lowe's parking lot, to go get a drink somewhere.  I went to 7-11.

Some convenience stores, the usual one I go to anyhow, are very good about cleanliness and distancing and have up now plexiglass shields between customers and clerks.  My usual place has Vita Water, berrry tinted, by fountain.  I love that stuff.  I go to that store for a small number of food items.  They sell prepared small pizzas, milk, ice cream, frozen burritos, etc and its safer to go there, with limited customers and an OCD owner.  I like OCD store owners now.  I like them a lot.  But my usual store was too far away.

Walking into this particular 7-11 was like walking into an opium den.  Or a packed dimly lit brawling smokey bar on Star Wars. It was crowded, and nobody was distancing.  There were no sneeze guards, no masks and people stared at me with mine like I was from another distant world they didn't recognize as real.

I should have turned and ran.  But I got a drink, plunked down money then ran.

I left the change.  I didn't want dirty money from this place growing things in my purse.

My friend and I sat there in the light of the dying sun, in a parking lot, her leaning against her car, me sitting with the door open in my front seat facing her, a parking space inbetween us. We chatted and laughed for 20 minutes or so.  It was like a grand outing, like sneaking into the bathroom in high school for a smoke with giggling coughing friends.  Not that I did that in high school.  I was a good little girl, too good.

My brother called me later.  The younger one, down in no virus county, southern Oregon.   The county below them now has cases, and they came up to his county, to my sister in laws hospital, where she works, to be tested.  "Do you think they infected anyone when they came up?" I asked.  He said he sure hoped not. 

His wife asked about how my new partial denture fit and I told her I can't wear it because its too tight on one tooth it clamps to, so tight it hurts to even wear it now.   It didn't hurt for a week after I got it, but then the pain began on the one good tooth it clamps too, but at first it was only when I ate.  But the pain progressed to even when I wasn't eating.  I was about to come on down, I told her, to get the fit adjusted, when my brother had let me know the dentist had closed his office due to the virus and the fact they can't do anything but emergencies now.

At first last night my brother said, "Call em up, its an emergency."  I was enthusiastic and said "You think so?"  He said "yeah, they have no business and are advertising on the radio that they can do emergency work."  I said "And I'm tremendously bored so I'd love to come down."  My brother said, "you could stay the night, we'll have a bonfire out at the fire pit."  Finally I said, "But I'm from a Covid county, I could be exposed and not even know it and bring it down there.  I can't risk that."  They both conceded it couldn't happen.  The excitement faded.

We've had more deaths here, and more cases pop up.    I sure won't be stopping by 7-11 again.

I need to up my apocalyptic procedure.

I want to free roam.  I want out of my cage.  I want to swim in the lake.  I want to howl at the moon with a pack of wild friends.

Me, now, in this time.