Enacting arrival controls
This afternoon, via the web, I learned that this province has declared a state of emergency. Not noticing anything untoward, I said (sub voce), “Finally! Something interesting!”
Not so fast. After checking the back story, I learned that this simply indicates an upgrade in legislative powers, as in “If you are coming to visit (the province), call ahead.” That’s it, in a nutshell. I should be relieved, but now I wonder what the term will be for something really important happening. I mean, the cry wolf thing works best when you have wolves about. Not our coyotes, or wild hares.
We’re actually doing quite well, in the midst of all the pandemic worry. Right now, no new cases, and a desire to keep the outside outside is a relief. I really don’t care that the cottages will be emptier than usual. Fewer cars speeding by the lane, if you get my undertone. And the beaches are going to continue to do what they do best (allowing the sand and the sea to meet in a controlled setting).
Sure, we’ll have less opportunity to go to concerts or neat festivals, but I’m old enough to figure out alternatives; I can fry up sausages on the Barbie, and enjoy the dive bombing hummingbirds (who should be back in a few weeks, based on best predictions).
My kids have got this one figured out; no vacay in the east until we all get back to normal, but they’ll accept it. I mean, it also emphasizes that there won’t be any parental dinners in local restaurants to schedule. I can hear the sighs of relief.
