– Dorn’s isolation journal day 6 (3/21/2020).
e had to let someone we didn’t know into our house! We had a broken window that needed repair. It’s funny how something that used to be so everyday can now send a frisson of panic through my body. But only for a moment. We were pretty sure that Steve from the window repair shop was taking his virus precautions seriously, because he wouldn’t come in until he was satisfied that neither Kathleen nor I had left the country recently. Good for him! Just the same, we kept our distance, and when he was done, we washed the windowsill and doorknobs.
Kathleen’s iPhone battery chose yesterday to die. The phone still works fine, it just has to stay plugged into the charger. But even though we, and the phone, are currently home-bound, this made me uneasy. It just seems like especially now, it doesn’t feel safe to be without a fully functioning cell phone, amiright? After some panicky phone calls (seems every local phone store is closed for the virus!), I finally arranged for a replacement to be mailed out, stat.
We had had the hint of a start of a plan to go see the cherry blossoms in DC this morning—get us out of the house while not forcing us to have any physical contact with anyone. But we couldn’t, not today, because we had to wait for the replacement phone to show up.
The new phone just now arrived at 5pm. The UPS guy skedaddled after dropping it on our porch, not even waiting for the signature they said would be required. After I brought in and opened the mailing box, I remembered to wash my hands before tackling the inner box (which I assume was packed at the factory months ago so, corona-free).
The DC cherry trees will have to wait. But Kathleen got some gorgeous shots of one the cherry trees down our street here in full bloom.
We made some pickles a couple of weeks ago that we have been enjoying. As I finished up one bottle of them, I reflected that it may be a long while before I go to the grocery store again for something as non-urgent as cucumbers. I tried to savor that last pickle, knowing that it could be summer before I have another.
Deja vu! or something. I bet our pioneer ancestors had felt that same way many times in Marches past, when their preserves stock was dwindling and summer harvest was still months away. I felt a moment of solidarity with them, and then a longer moment of embarrassment at comparing the hardship I was going through (which was almost none, really) with what they experienced. Every action is a lesson!
I decided to pass the time by coloring my hair blue again. Only this time, I can do it more easily, because of the imposed social isolation. I don’t have to physically dye my hair, I can just virtually dye it—by telling everyone that my hair is blue. Since we are socially self-quarantining, who’s to know I’m wrong? I believe this technique of describing one’s person inaccurately was perfected during the rise of the Dating App.
So anyway I’ve virtually dyed my hair blue again, and given myself a virtual mohawk to boot. Here’s proof:
Thanks,
Dorn
3/21/2020