Day #102 of Self-Isolation
Jun. 26th, 2020 08:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowkatA friend posted that the weeks are long, but the months are fast. Mentioned this to mother, who agreed. Nice to know it's not just me that feels as if the months and seasons are flying by, but the days and weeks are dragging.
One of my project managers called me today. Actually two of them did, for two separate projects. The second one, who has young children, is concerned about returning to the office in two weeks - she has no day-care. She does have an office - so that's not a problem. I told her that I was most likely going to continue working remotely. She told me I was lucky. I said, "well, no office, and you know where I'm located - there's no possibility of social distancing." She agreed that it was pretty open - and on top of that, my management still can't quite figure out how to only put four people out a fifty-three person department on the floor. So those who have proven they are adept at working remotely will continue to do so. (I've more than proven it, and with a small laptop.)
Meanwhile...when mother isn't regaling me with stories of dead plants, she's regaling me with stories about my father's inadequate plumbing. Have I mentioned my mother has no filter? She also told me that he keeps thinking there are other people here, including me.
Mother: So I was making ice cream during the Vice President's press conference today with the Corona Virus Task Force, and your father got upset with me. He said it was rude to make ice cream while people were trying to have a conference in our living room. How are they supposed to hear each other?
Me: Well, it is Pence - so probably doesn't matter. It's not like he has anything worth saying.
Mother: The task force does.
Me: I don't know. So my mother thinks the people in the television are in the room with him.
Mother: He gets confused.
I know it's not really funny, but laughing at it keeps me from crying. I love my father and so does my mother, and she's slowly watching him disappear. Alzheimer's is an extremely painful disease. You lose the person you love by degrees. And in the middle of a pandemic..ugh.
I told my mother that we're all basically miserable.
Mother: Do you feel like your treading water?
Me: Yes. Very much so. And its endless.
Mother: Like we're all stuck in limbo or something?
My parents retirement community is keeping them under lockdown for the most part, and movements restricted. They can't do memory matters - even though it was opening up again. Someone at the facility had tested postive for COVID-19 so the retirement community told my mother they were disallowing.
My mother keeps wandering if she should break protocol and go do what she wants. Other people are apparently doing that.
I told her that the best thing that could happen right now is if the guy in the White House, and his VP were to die of COVID, then people would take it seriously. Mother said that she doubted they could die of it, they were most likely carriers passing it to everyone around them. Turns out that the late night stand up comics agree. Jimmy Kimmel (I think it was Kimmel) stated that "you know we have a problem when the secret service has to protect itself from the President."
God the news is painful. So I'm taking a break from it this weekend. Total news blackout. If something important happens, not to worry, my mother will tell me. She always does.
By the time the day was over, between work and the news...and the internet, I was exhausted. But I took a restorative walk around Greenwood Cemetery anyhow...about two miles. The air was thick as water, about eighty percent humidity. Storm clouds, but no rain. Just the threat, but nothing. We have not had rain in weeks it seems. I fear we are heading into a drought. It's how my brothers wildflowers all died - the drought. He'd told me all about his dream of planting them and watching them grow in the fall - even showed me where he'd plant them.
Greenwood had some unexpected pleasures though, even though it was stick and a mosquito bit me.
I leave you with one of them...a Woodchuck aka Groundhog, who are usually pretty shy and tend to lurk in the woodland boundaries. I watched him for a bit, following he about with my cell-phone camera, seeing how close I could get to him without scaring him.
One of my project managers called me today. Actually two of them did, for two separate projects. The second one, who has young children, is concerned about returning to the office in two weeks - she has no day-care. She does have an office - so that's not a problem. I told her that I was most likely going to continue working remotely. She told me I was lucky. I said, "well, no office, and you know where I'm located - there's no possibility of social distancing." She agreed that it was pretty open - and on top of that, my management still can't quite figure out how to only put four people out a fifty-three person department on the floor. So those who have proven they are adept at working remotely will continue to do so. (I've more than proven it, and with a small laptop.)
Meanwhile...when mother isn't regaling me with stories of dead plants, she's regaling me with stories about my father's inadequate plumbing. Have I mentioned my mother has no filter? She also told me that he keeps thinking there are other people here, including me.
Mother: So I was making ice cream during the Vice President's press conference today with the Corona Virus Task Force, and your father got upset with me. He said it was rude to make ice cream while people were trying to have a conference in our living room. How are they supposed to hear each other?
Me: Well, it is Pence - so probably doesn't matter. It's not like he has anything worth saying.
Mother: The task force does.
Me: I don't know. So my mother thinks the people in the television are in the room with him.
Mother: He gets confused.
I know it's not really funny, but laughing at it keeps me from crying. I love my father and so does my mother, and she's slowly watching him disappear. Alzheimer's is an extremely painful disease. You lose the person you love by degrees. And in the middle of a pandemic..ugh.
I told my mother that we're all basically miserable.
Mother: Do you feel like your treading water?
Me: Yes. Very much so. And its endless.
Mother: Like we're all stuck in limbo or something?
My parents retirement community is keeping them under lockdown for the most part, and movements restricted. They can't do memory matters - even though it was opening up again. Someone at the facility had tested postive for COVID-19 so the retirement community told my mother they were disallowing.
My mother keeps wandering if she should break protocol and go do what she wants. Other people are apparently doing that.
I told her that the best thing that could happen right now is if the guy in the White House, and his VP were to die of COVID, then people would take it seriously. Mother said that she doubted they could die of it, they were most likely carriers passing it to everyone around them. Turns out that the late night stand up comics agree. Jimmy Kimmel (I think it was Kimmel) stated that "you know we have a problem when the secret service has to protect itself from the President."
God the news is painful. So I'm taking a break from it this weekend. Total news blackout. If something important happens, not to worry, my mother will tell me. She always does.
By the time the day was over, between work and the news...and the internet, I was exhausted. But I took a restorative walk around Greenwood Cemetery anyhow...about two miles. The air was thick as water, about eighty percent humidity. Storm clouds, but no rain. Just the threat, but nothing. We have not had rain in weeks it seems. I fear we are heading into a drought. It's how my brothers wildflowers all died - the drought. He'd told me all about his dream of planting them and watching them grow in the fall - even showed me where he'd plant them.
Greenwood had some unexpected pleasures though, even though it was stick and a mosquito bit me.
I leave you with one of them...a Woodchuck aka Groundhog, who are usually pretty shy and tend to lurk in the woodland boundaries. I watched him for a bit, following he about with my cell-phone camera, seeing how close I could get to him without scaring him.