Month: April 2020

My Shrinking World

World

I’ve been working exclusively from home for over a month. It doesn’t feel that long, but in other ways it feels like it has been forever.

I’m fortunate to work for a very forward thinking healthcare system. A few years ago our department leadership saw the day when we would run out of office space, and also the need to be flexible in terms of where people work to make itself an attractive place for college grads entering the work force. Thus emerged the Alternate Work Arrangement initiative, which was the catalyst to getting folks wired so they could work from home. It certainly has served us well when the virus hit and we had to transition a lot of people from the office to their homes.

While I was never an advocate for or desired working home full time, I did dip my toe into the water by working home one day a week. I enjoyed not having the daily commute where the round trip took between an hour and a half to two hours. I also enjoyed rolling out of bed, making some coffee, and working in my sweats. I didn’t have to get up as early to get to the office at my desired time, and finished the work day at home a lot earlier too.

When the reality of what was coming was irrefutable, I was glad to have been set up for a remote location and have taken to it like a duck to water. The only downside was that my world began to shrink considerably. But I have to admit,  I enjoyed spreading my stuff out on the kitchen table, and enjoyed the casualness of working from home. I still do.

However, the recent flood forced me to reorganize the work place at home because my mother in law is living in the big open area that includes the living room, where she sleeps, and the kitchen. I removed a table and the rolling office chair that went with it from downstairs, deposited it into a  corner of my bedroom,  and parked my laptop upon it.

Every morning now, I literally crawl out of bed, throw on some sweats, brush my teeth, shuffle over to the kitchen to make my coffee, then head back to the bedroom to pull the table and chair away from the corner and get to work. This takes all of maybe seven minutes.

It’s a more comfortable set-up, and the view, which you can see from the picture that leads this post, is much nicer than anything I can look at from the office back at the mother ship, but my shrinking world has become even smaller. Other than occasionally going to the bathroom and kitchen, I am there from about 5:30 in the morning until 4:00 in the afternoon. I enjoy the new house and my new work space, but sometimes it feels like a glorified prison.

The psychology behind self-isolation is a weird thing. It’s a necessary evil, but we are more alone than ever. I don’t know about you, but being alone with my thoughts isn’t always a good thing, especially now. How can you not wonder where this will all lead, and what things will look like on the other side? When this all started, I firmly believed, and still do, that someone who is near and dear would perish from it, and there was a good possibility who this person was would turn out to be a complete surprise. So far, I know one person who I believe has the virus (not tested but has symptoms and is self-quarantined). Thankfully, he seems to be doing well. I have not been near him since that time. A good friend of ours who is a nurse was exposed at work due to a colossal management fuck-up that from the way she describes it is negligent at best and borderline criminal at worst. K and I worry about her.

It is hard not to feel alone even when I venture to the store. Social distancing requires us to give everyone a wide berth, so if I see someone I don’t know heading in my direction I turn the other way. And when I see someone I do know, I make sure I’m at least ten feet away from them. How can anyone feel connected to anything under those circumstances? When I do go to the store, it’s at 6AM on Saturday mornings, when practically nobody is there, so even these chance meetings are infrequent.

Most of the news is bad, so I have sworn off watching news programming of any kind, getting my information via the print media instead, which only creates a different kind of isolation. Because of the MS and how it affects my walking, I can’t go for an easy outside stroll, or visit state parks, the beaches or nature preserves. I’m beginning to understand and appreciate the plight of many with MS who have had lived like this for a long time because their disabilities make it hard to do otherwise.

I can’t explain why this came as a surprise, but isolation is also boring as hell, so I’m trying to cope in a variety of ways. Other than pouring myself into my work more than usual, I am also working out a lot more. I try to get outside at least once a day to breathe real air. The good stuff on Netflix, Amazon and all those services is really limited, even thought there is tons of stuff to see. I’ve refused to watch dramas because there is too much drama in real life as it is, and there are no sports. So I’ve reverted to watching a lot of documentaries.

I’m also drinking more. Not a lot mind you, and certainly nothing to be concerned about, but where before that was something that was reserved for weekends, a can of beer or glass or wine has become an every night kind of thing, along with the MMJ. On weekends I’ll indulge and have a vodka (or whiskey) and seltzer (or two). And there have been nights where I have made sure I was numb to anything and everything.

Whatever has been preying on my mind never seems as terrible with a buzz-on. It also helps me stop thinking about shit I don’t want to think about, at least most of the time. It is hard to think about happy things when the world around you is turning into shit, so this becomes an emotional crutch.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who does this, so I can’t help but wonder if there going to be a lot more people with substance abuse issues compared to before this started.

Life has become routine and predictable: Get up, work, work out, have dinner, clean up, take a shower, have something to drink and toke/eat, watch television, then get up the next day and do the same exact thing. Just like the subject of Jackson Browne’s “The Pretender,” I sometimes feel like a happy idiot, struggling for the legal tender.

On weekends, add house cleaning, whatever outside stuff that needs to be done, and a trip to the store, but those diversions don’t change the fact that we have become solitary, secluded beings out of necessity, and it isn’t fun.

Each day and week that goes by deepens the feeling of my detachment from the world. At least I have a spouse that I adore and can hang with, but that doesn’t prevent the feeling of separation from everything I know from building and deepening every day and week this continues. I can’t imagine how this will feel in another month or two.

All we can fall back on is that we are doing the right thing. The short-term sacrifice will help hasten the spread of this thing and save lives in the process (unless the Federal Government continues to downplay the severity of this), so how can anyone bitch about that?

Still, I sometimes feel like the incredible shrinking man, whose only connection to the world outside of my family unit are the words on texts or the voices on the phone. It’s a poor substitute for the real thing, but it’s better then nothing.

We will all be changed when this is over. Only time will tell if that is for the better or worse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Random Thoughts 2

writers block

Emptying this cluttered mind of idea fragments and thoughts that have percolated the last few weeks.

One of the many things I am fascinated about witnessing is how we as a society and culture adjust to the new reality once this is over. Think back to the World War Two era, where our citizen’s lives were dominated by this cataclysmic event for almost four years. While this episode in our history won’t last that long, I suspect it may take as long if not longer to adjust to the new normal compared to when that war was over, the soldiers came home, and reconstruction began.

The industries that will take the longest to recover, and may never be the same, are: Sports and entertainment; the hotel/guest services industries; the various travel industries. Until a proven vaccine is created and made available to the masses, I can’t see anyone being comfortable in placing themselves among a mass of people. I’m certainly not.

Be that as it may, we know that sports will resume at some point. But what will that look like until the vaccine is available? I think the days of all the seats being filled are gone until then. Perhaps there will be mandated gaps/spacing between seats, and food services will be suspended. Either way it will look and feel completely different. I think the basketball and hockey seasons are over, and I question how much of a baseball season is realistic. The NFL? Coin flip that it starts on time.

It will also be interesting to see how or if the various sports unions and ownership groups play nice in the sandbox as they try to adjust salaries and compensation to account for the loss of gate revenue. I doubt you will see mega contracts that have become commonplace emerge for a few years. Mookie Betts and free agents like him are going to get screwed. They may be better off doing one year deals until this all gets sorted.

There used to be a buffer between the emotions I felt and what I’d show, but not anymore. I find that I am much quicker to laugh, cry, or become angry than ever before. Is that just me?

Perhaps it is because I’m more reflective and am thinking about deeper stuff as events unfold, but I’ve come up with a LOT of good writing ideas. I have at least a half dozen things I can share via this blog. It’s just a matter of taking the time to develop them. For now, I start a post, write the opening paragraph, and let it sit for future development.

I could care less about politics right now, because I really think whatever “campaigning” occurs between now and Labor Day is a waste of time. This virus and how it plays out will dictate the election’s outcome. My only concern and frustration is that the virus issue has become a political football. Those entrenched in power are screwed if the economy is as dormant as it is now, so the pressure exists to end the distancing protocols and get people working again, which would be a disaster should that occur too soon. I mean, how good can the economy be if the virus growth explodes more than it has now , and the fatalities explode with it? Unfortunately, competing camps are getting different directives, which will make it take that much longer to reach the end of this road. In todays ultra polarized environment,  politics supersedes the common good. How sad.

Can we please stop with the lawsuits? An attorney in Connecticut filed suit against our governor over a new requirement to wear masks in public, saying it was an infringement on an individual’s constitutional rights. Can we also stop the mass protesting about “freeing” our people and the economy? Even if you are true believers that this is all overkill, and media-driven paranoia (which I don’t) are you really willing to take that chance and put you and your loved ones at risk? Haven’t you ever heard of science? I don’t get it.

When we do come up with a vaccine, what are we going to do about those who don’t believe in them? I can hardly wait to read the vitriol from those who feel nobody should be required or forced against their will to get the shot. An individual’s right is secondary to the common good in these situations from where I sit, so I say tie them down, give them the vaccine, and drown out the noise.

If you had to bet everything you own on the over/under as to when this threat will over, when would that be? My bet would be November 2021. That’s a long ass time.

Of all the little annoying things that crop up dealing with MS, putting socks on is at the top of that list. I typically do this while sitting on the side of my bed, but don’t have the flexibility I used to, especially first thing in the morning.  I can’t force the issue because if I do I’ll lean forward too far and fall off the bed (it’s happened). I have to put the left sock before the right (my bad foot/leg), because if I do the opposite, the foot slides forward and I find my body falling with it. So what is the solution? Putting them on before I go to bed.

The planet is going to get a break this summer. With less cars on the road, factories not running at full capacity, the air quality should certainly be better as the amount of greenhouse gases released will be significantly curtailed. Cities whose skylines were hard to see due to smog should look clear and pristine by comparison. I wonder if this will have any impact at all on the severity of storms over the next two years. It certainly can’t hurt.

I have access to Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, Xfinity on Demand and a host of other platforms that I can’t think of off the top of my head, and there is still nothing to watch, which is sad given the expense. Guess I’m going to have to give things that appear interesting a whirl, but guess there will four to five duds for every keeper. Sounds like a lot of work, doesn’t it?

I haven’t filled the gas tank in our two cars in over a month, and neither has much less than half a tank remaining. Bet I’m not the only one saving money like this without trying.

Am I the only one who is drinking more than before?

I was afraid that I’d gain a ton of weight while waiting out this storm, but I’ve actually lost weight. I suspect I am in the minority. It must be the stress.

Be safe!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shit Happens

flood

Where do I even start?

For the past month, we’ve been preparing and gathering items together like bears gearing up for hibernation. The idea was to get enough food and supplies in the house to last several weeks so that when the worst of the virus surge hit, we’d be all snug and cozy in our safe place, with no need to go anywhere. During that time, our internal environment was pristine as no outsider has stepped foot into our house. The way we choreographed this was working to perfection. Then we had the flood.

Last Saturday was a nice spring day, warm but breezy. Showers were forecast for most of this week, so the idea was to seed the areas of our new lawn that had bare spots or were torn up the one time the driveway was plowed. K spread the seed, and I covered the areas with straw, then watered the areas so the wind wouldn’t blow the stuff all over the place. This kind of work is hard for me because I have to keep contorting my body to stay in a position on a surface that is not level, and is very lumpy and bumpy, so my balance stays centered and I won’t fall. By the time I got to the last section that needed the straw, a section directly outside the entrance to the downstairs apartment, my body was protesting. All I wanted was to finish the task ASAP, so I spread the straw, hooked the hose up to the outside valve, then grabbed the hose to water everything down.

As I was watering, I noticed the water pressure wasn’t the same as the last time we used that hose last fall, but didn’t think twice about it because I wanted to be done. The task took about ten minutes, then I shut off the hose, rolled it back in place, put everything else back in the garage, and dragged my carcass inside. After changing, I grabbed a beer, sat in my favorite chair, and got ready to relax for the rest of the day, which began by helping clean the house. I was spent, but content in knowing that I can still be useful, and was looking forward to enjoying the rest of the day now that everything on the to-do list was done. Some time later, the phone rang.

It was my mother-in-law, who said, in so many words, that she just stepped in a large pool of water and that it was all over the place. My initial thought was, “are you kidding me?” The second was an understanding of why the water pressure coming out of the hose was compromised, and all I could think of was “Oh Shit!”

K and I rushed downstairs, and entered the apartment through the basement. As we looked to our right up the hallway, we could see that water covered half of the hallway, and it was deep enough in some places, maybe a quarter to half inch, that you could float a kids toy on it. Instinct took over, and we shut off the water going to that valve, grabbed the large wet/dry vacuum we purchased during the construction process, grabbed every towel and rag that we could find, and started getting the water off the floor. By the time we were done, I had to empty the vacuum container twice. It was filled to capacity once, and was half-filled when we were finished. It’s a good thing that the water leading to the valve was on for just an hour, maybe less, otherwise it would have been much worse.

One entire bedroom floor, the one next to the outside valve, was covered and so was the bedroom closet. The water drained from the pipe and down to the floor, left the room and slowly meandered to the lowest point on the floor before we shut it off, which took it outside that bedroom, into the entrance of the second bedroom, down the hallway, and into the opening of the television nook. It was under beds, sofas, and tables. The entire process took maybe an hour as adrenaline took over.

Afterwards, when the job was completed, the realization of what just occurred set in, and I was livid, sad, discouraged, depressed……you name it, I was feeling it. I mean this is a brand new house! We’ve only been living here for six months. How can this possibly happen? If things aren’t bad enough with the virus, and the fact that it has depressed the real estate market so much that I fear it might take until next year to sell the old place, now we have to deal with this?

After calling our insurance company (thankfully there were no issues there), we had a mitigation team downstairs in less than two days. After using their moisture meters to isolate which walls got the worst of it and where all the moisture was, they cut out a two foot section of sheetrock in the affected areas starting from the floor going up, removed the insulation, then removed maybe a third of the brand new hardwood floor, which was necessary because some areas had started to buckle, and we needed to remove any residual water that may lay beneath it so we wouldn’t have to worry about mold growing.

Once the team was done, they left a handful industrial sized dehumidifiers on for three days. Then the plumber came. Long story short, the valve for the outside water that caused the issue is on the north side of the house. Even though we removed all the hoses and shut off the water going to that valve before winter, and even though it was not a cold, frigid winter, water apparently remained in the valve, froze, expanded and ruptured the pipe leading to it when we turned the water on. Chalk this up to fact that they don’t make parts like they used to, even if was made of copper. We know what to do to prevent this from happening in the future, but at this point who cares?

So we are back in construction mode. The walls are exposed, the floor is ripped up, and the place is unlivable. My mother-in-law has moved upstairs with us and will stay there until all the repairs have been completed, hopefully within the next three to four weeks. The pipe and outside faucet have been replaced, and the insulation guys have already come and done their thing. Then come the sheet-rockers, followed by the flooring folks, who have the hardest job of the bunch. Their task is to repair the concrete subfloor (it was gouged in a variety of places when they had to remove and in some cases chisel the planks off the floor), remove the glue then refit new tongue and groove flooring into the pieces that weren’t touched, and make it look like none of this ever happened. Then the walls get repainted before major cleaning commences.

The worst part of the whole thing is that we were all set up. We had our stuff, and our environment was secure. Now we have workman coming in and out of the place, and I am sure they are just as happy to be here as we are having them. We’ve lost control of the environment, and have to do the best we can as far as safety measures are concerned. At least we have the ability to clear the downstairs out and have the workman there by themselves, until they need to see K, that is. Remember, she was the general contractor as the house was being built, and knows where everything is. She’s also a bit of a germophobe, so you don’t have to guess very hard to figure out how thrilled she is with this.

I was ready to write and vent my spleen last Sunday, when this was all fresh, and was I was filled with despair and anguish, but decided not too because I’d sound like an unhinged crazy man. The rawness of the event has subsided, but the wounds are still fresh. I want to rail against fate, and ask things like why us? When are we going to catch a break? When is this dark cloud that feels like it has been hovering overhead going to leave?

But I don’t because life isn’t fair, and because I don’t want to tempt fate. The Gods are not kind or benevolent, and with our luck, they would sneer at us and say, “you think things are bad, let us give you something to really complain about,” and one of us comes down with the virus. I don’t want go there, so I grit my teeth and try to look on the bright side. We are all healthy, and as long as it stays that way and we emerge safe from this entire ordeal, we can cope with this, as badly as it sucks.

Intellectually, I know that day will come, and believe we will look back on this with a mixture of humor, awe and gratitude that we survived. But emotionally? It’s really hard to see the light at the end of that long, dark tunnel.