Behind closed doors
The quarantine ritual seems pretty simple, on the surface. Get in some snacks, figure out how to fit Netflix into your sleep schedule, leave the heavy hauling to others. Except, there are some exceptions, when there are new rules.
One of my cousins lives in an apartment block, and has been advised that “behind closed doors” will mean that. No wandering the halls. No long walks in the open air. Contact with others is meant for the healthy, and until your fourteen days in purgatory are over, life goes on hold.
Similarly, another cousin had to deal with the death of a parent, today. Apparently travels outside the country are enough to disqualify one from visits with the rest of the family. You can’t learn to handle things like this, not within hours.
Talking with my own kids (at a distance), I’m starting to realize that we’re in for some unfamiliar times. Visits might not be on the calendar, this year. Nobody knows. And when the spokespeople from government are asked, they (too) have to admit with candor that this wasn’t part of any briefing (until quite recently).
We’re starting to see the fake news material, as well. I had shared a story concerning drunken elephants with my son. Today, National Geographic posted that this was just a fantasy. Fan fiction for the willing and trusting reader. Already, the phone calls from fake testers and fake government offices are putting us on guard; the cheaters are always at the ready.
And then, we have the really greedy: one new senator (sworn in only three weeks before) in the US managed to unload three million in stocks after some inside information came up. It doesn’t help that the spouse is president of a stock exchange. You can’t make this stuff up. All you can do is remember to vote, appropriately.
