Cower in place 8: old man worry

– Dorn’s self-isolation journal day 8 (3/23/2020).

oday is a cold, wet, dreary day, and I find my mind turning to all the things I could be worried about. They say it helps to talk about it, so here goes. (I assume that means it helps ME to talk about it. I’m not so sure this will help YOU, gentle reader, so feel free to skip this whole post. I’ll probably be more chipper tomorrow.).

Over and above the new-normal everyday worry of me or Kathleen getting sick…

(1) Archie is running low on his pills. He’s about 75 dog-years old (as I calculated here), and takes almost as many pills as the humans in the family. The prescription has been waiting for him for about a week, but I’m not ready to go out yet and pick it up—I feel like I should wait until I have a lot of things I have to do out there before I brave the Dangerous Outer World.xxx

(2) I also didn’t drop off my Dad’s malfunctioning hearing aids at the repair place because of the same fears, despite my promise to do so. Instead, I just mailed them in, and forced the postman to assume my risk. Will they get there all in one piece?

(3) Our daughter and granddaughters arrived home last night from what felt to us like a suicidal Wyoming-to-Michigan road trip. She says they are all fine, and were extra careful for the entire trip. I’m relieved they got home safely, but I have set my mental counter to “day 1”, and for the next two weeks I’ll wait for periodic updates on how they’re feeling. Stressful!

(4) On Friday, NOAA reported that an employee at the building I used to work in had identified positive for the Covid-19 virus. He or she was last in the building two days before testing positive. On Saturday NOAA announced mandatory telework for all eligible employees in light of the situation. I don’t know who it is, or where in the building, or if this affects anyone I know there. It’s been over a year since I worked there, but I feel a kind of survivor’s guilt for clearing out well before the threat hit.

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That’s enough for now, I think. Thank you for listening to me count off my worries, you’re true friend (not like all those who DIDN’T read this post, they’re just fair-weather friends and we heap scorn in their general direction). Now I feel better.

As a reward of sorts, here’s Bing Crosby singing “Count Your Blessings” from the rather corny, rather camp movie White Christmas (1954), which was obviously made to cash in on the continued popularity of an earlier (and better) Bing Crosby flick, Holiday Inn (1942).

And as a reward for listening to that, here’s “I Put a Spell on You”, by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins.

Thanks,
Dorn
3/23/2020

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