THE GREAT QUARANTINE OF 2020: PART 3

Okay, here's what I really want to know. Like seriously, I can't wrap my mind around this.

Way back in the beginning of the madness that is the corona-quarant-isolatio-pocalypse, it was crucial to get communication from our schools, places of employment, churches, and WalMart, letting us know that we could not visit our favorite public places as we normally would. I'm sure school-kids and overworked employees were shouting a little bit of praise at the forced time off. In the beginning, at least. A few weeks of staying home is generally kind of nice when you get through the harsh winter and ensuing cabin fever period of February and March. These types of establishments generally contacted us via email, phone-casts, and mass texts.

Those were very helpful and included important messages about how to stay safe, how to limit, or eliminate completely, our contact with other people who may have infectious germs on or inside of their person, OR by touching a surface that may have also been touched by someone who knows Pharell's sound engineer, who also happens to have worked with Ariana, who is my daughter's idol, and maybe somehow, someone could make the connections for her to meet Ariana and in turn, Ariana could introduce me to Harry Styles. Wait, no, that is something like six degrees of separation. Anyway, it's helpful to know how grocery stores, banks, schools, and churches are handling the ongoing threat of COVID-19. In short, they're all shut down, so don't go there.

But why, oh why, am I getting emails from every company that has ever had me on their email list??? Do I need to know about everyone's approach to COVID-19?

Take Capital One, for example, our credit card company. Honestly, why would I care about their approach to coronavirus? If I wanted to visit their office in person, I'd imagine it might involve an airplane or an Amtrak train, and probably a hotel stay. In other words, I do not now and have never needed to visit them in person. So basically, their message is “We hereby want to just reiterate that we have never, and we will continue to not do this: lick, spit, sneeze or cough in the general direction of your mail." Their additional offer of help, which you will see when you visit their website, is “We are here to help our customers impacted by the COVID-19 virus situation.” So, I'm not sure what this means but maybe they're going to offer more loans and credit limit increases so they can stay in business.

Basically, everyone out there wants you to know that it's “business as usual” but it really isn't, like with our credit union. “Hello folks. You can still access online banking via phone, internet, and if those don't work, you can try morse code. Our branch will still be open a few hours a day, but we obviously won't be letting people in. We'll be sitting behind our 2-inch thick bullet proof glass laughing at you as you tug on the doors but those suckers are going to stay shut tight. We're sorry if you don't have access to online banking. Why don't you grow the hell up and get with the 21st century? And how should you go about depositing cash? Haha, silly you. You DON'T! For heaven's sake, man, cash is a veritable sewage system, holding the entirety of the planet's germs in its innocent, leafy appearance. And let's be real here, since we are heading for economic destruction, why not go the old-fashioned route and stuff the goods under your mattress like Grandpa used to do? Might not be a bad idea now that we're on the cusp of another Great Depression. Oh, and feel free to click this link to find out how to sanitize your money: www.notmoneylaundering.com." (Note to the FBI: this post is strictly for entertainment purposes. This is not an active link, and I wouldn't understand how money-laundering works even if I studied it all of my life.)

When did Paypal become an expert on coronavirus?

Why is there a popup on YouTube that asks if I'd like to learn more about COVID-19? This is completely outside of the limit and scope of YouTube! People get on YouTube to enjoy mindless skits from Saturday Night Live and TV show bloopers, or to see what happens when you put a bullet into a hydraulic press or an aerosol can into the microwave. In other words, people go to YouTube to forget about the madness (of COVID-19) for while, in order to indulge in another kind of madness completely.

Domino's offers “contact-free” delivery, and they vaguely assure me that their in-store safety procedures are still as top-notch as ever. But there's no mention of face masks, gloves, or hair nets. Still, as the pizza has been fired in a 450° oven, removed with one of those long spatula thingys (which I've learned is called a “pizza peel”) that hopefully has a 6-foot handle, the pizza itself is probably reasonably safe. (But, do we know for a fact that 450° temperatures kill the novel coronavirus?)

On the contrary, Little C (another pizza company, of which I've changed the name to protect the innocent) happy to let you know that they're still open and that they will not now, and have never, used gloves, hair nets, or masks to make their fine pizza, because it is only $5 after all. What do you expect them to do, make their insanely cheap and greasy pizza in a bubble? Little C offers the friendly tip - even outside of corona-times - that you may want to call back on occasion to make sure you don't need a booster on your hepatitis vaccines as a result of frequenting their store.

Speaking of vaccines, what are the anti-vaxxers doing now? I'm not trying to start a fight or some philosophical discussion about vaccinations. I'm genuinely curious. As everything in the northern hemisphere, western hemisphere, and probably the southern hemisphere – hell, the entire planet – is shutting down, are they sitting around thinking, “I don't care if that vaccine ever gets made. My kids are strong and healthy.” Or are they actively protesting against a vaccine because, you know, vaccines are stupid. OR, are they actually having COVID-19 parties, a la chicken pox parties, getting their kids together so they can all get it at once and build antibodies together in a fun and productive way? Someone enlighten me.

Okay, back to other unnecessary mail:

From MSU (Al and I are alumni. We both graduated about 25 years ago. We currently have no children attending MSU):

Dear Jennifer,
As a valued member of the Spartan family, I appreciate the trust you have placed in me to ensure the health and well-being of our students, faculty, staff and the entire MSU community blah, blah may feel stress and concern about yada yada. You are important to us and whatchacallit blah blah.
I purposely cut off the rest of the message because I assumed you wouldn't read the entire thing. I didn't either because I have better things to do with my time and it affects me in no way whatsoever.


Snopes: I do appreciate the Snopes.com emails because they are good and trustworthy when it comes to debunking myths, urban legends, and plain old stupidity, such as "Coronavirus was actually a bioweapon created by Russia because they're still pissed that they didn't get to use more nukes during the Cold War."

Canva: I use this online design program for an book covers, cards, posters, and props for my ESL job. Now, just so you understand, I couldn't go to a Canva location if I wanted to because, and let me be very clear about this, it is an ONLINE company. So, why do they have to tell me about their approach to fighting COVID-19?

Budget car rental: “Just in case you're stupid – or rebellious – enough to travel right now, our cars are routinely sanitized and ready and waiting at your convenience. However, not all of our locations are in operation because we've been told we're not essential workers, and the governor of Michigan said that people shouldn't drive cars. Ever.”

Calm (an app for relaxation): “Here are some free resources to support you through this challenging time.” What challenge? We have to stay home. How stressful is that? (Okay, I get that it is truly stressful for some people, like extroverts, people who need a paycheck to survive from day to day, and serial killers, to name a few.)

Hotels.com: Honestly, I can't remember the last time I stayed in a hotel or used your site. Why do you still have my email address?! Unsubscribe me, you stalkers!

Sears: A company whose name is synonymous with bankruptcy and has closed the vast majority of their stores, still wants to sell me name brand appliances. Oh, and they also have some "valuable" information about coronavirus.

Speedy Rewards (Speedway): “We have enhanced our already comprehensive in-store cleaning and sanitization processes, and continued emphasis on proper personal hygiene, including more frequent handwashing and the proper use of hand sanitizer. (How many people have been using sanitizer incorrectly or improperly? How does that even happen? Unless you're drinking it, in which case you may have more serious problems than being at risk for the 'rona.) We have also distributed cleaning supplies which have been EPA-certified to kill the COVID-19 virus, with instructions to increase the frequency of cleaning commonly touched surfaces, including bathrooms, touchscreens, door and cooler handles, dispensers, and pin pads. Soon, Speedway will be supplying our stores with hand sanitizer stations for customer use, adding an additional level of protection.”

What a very nice email from Speedway. However, when you go to the actual gas station, don't touch your face and be absolutely sure that you WASH YOUR HANDS when you get home because coronavirus could be spread through gas pump handles. And because your hands usually stink after you pump gas and if you don't wash them after this filthy task in general, there is something wrong with you.

Representative Elissa Slotkin: Vote for me because I was the one to inform you that the tax deadline has been extended to July 15. Oh wait, you already voted for me. Never mind.

New York times: We have the official count of those affected by COVID-19.

USA Today: No, we have the official count.

NYT: No, you dumb ninny, we do.

USA Today: What makes you so special?

NYT: We're in New York, duh.

Finally, emails from my neighbors at nextdoor.com. This is a site that can be customized to the neighborhood you live in, where people can post just about anything on a community bulletin board. It's kind of nice except when I get repeated emails about Nancy's missing cat. Anyway, the recent messages have been about several home and auto break-ins.

Great, the looting has started. Grab your shotgun, lock your doors, batten down the hatches. It's gonna get rough.

Thoughts on Quarantine, PART 2

Will you keep reading if I promise there are no poop and puke stories in this post? 

Okay, let's move on to the second installment of our 3-part series on the Great Quarantine of 2020.

THINGS TO DO DURING YOUR FORCED CONFINEMENT EXTRA FREE TIME. 

(Subtitle: Things I tried to do, at which I failed miserably )

1. Spring Cleaning

It is spring.

Spring is traditionally the time for spring cleaning, hence the name spring cleaning.

And hey, we're stuck at home, so it's a great time to get some things done!

You probably know where I'm going with this. I have a house full of able-bodied kids who are not going out to work or school, and generally not sneaking out to see their boyfriends or to get a whiff of fresh air, generally found outside at parks and such, but occasionally also found at Meijer (especially when the air outside is tainted with snow. In April!)

What a great time to do some spring cleaning. My thinking, long before Easter, which is my usual deadline for spring cleaning - was "Let's get this house cleaned and decluttered and let's purge everything we don't need!"

There were several flaws with this plan.

The first problem I encountered was that that teenagers and young adults like to sleep. A lot. At unpredictable times of day. Especially when they have nothing else to do. And also when they have school work to do. I mean, they get their school work done, too, but their waking schedule is from like 1 PM to 3 AM. So we don't touch base as often as I'd like. And of course, when I announce that there are chores to be done, there is a lot of pretending to be sleeping going on.

Another problem I faced was that, even if everyone in my house was ready, willing and able to clean (which, in and of itself would probably signal some very significant change in the laws of the universe or maybe the impending apocalypse), we didn't have the proper tools at our disposal because there is no Lysol anywhere, in a liquid, solid or gaseous state. No bleach, No Clorox wipes. No rubbing alcohol. No hydrogen peroxide.

Not even on Amazon! I don't know about you, but when Amazon starts running out of things, that's when I start to panic. If Amazon runs out of it's Amazonian stash of Instant Pots, the softest sheets in the world, Poo-pourri bathroom spray, or every book known to man, the world will stop turning. Yes, I know that it used to function just fine without Amazon, but now that Amazon is here, it has become a permanent and very-much needed fixture in our lives, especially because I have free Prime shipping!  

Let me clarify that, although there hasn't been rubbing alcohol on the shelves in several weeks, there's been plenty of other kinds of alcohol, and no matter how much you try to convince me that vodka can kill novel coronavirus (it can't!), I wouldn't waste such a necessity at a time like this. And I don't really want our house smelling like a distillery. Besides, our drink of choice in this house is a well-crafted gin and tonic.

Here are a few other obstacles I ran into, while attempting to simply clean my house: You know all that garbage you tend to find when you're deep cleaning? It feels so good to just toss out bag after bag of junk that you can't repair, don't want to repair, or never wanted in the first place. Well, our garbage company told us to limit our trash to what can fit in the dumpster. Can you imagine? How rude! I guess they don't want their employees handling our possibly infected trash. I mean, before they were just fine handling trash with poopy diapers, rotten food, and many other things that surely contained dangerous levels of e.coli, salmonella, botulinum toxin and who knows what else? But add coronavirus to the mix and now they're all "we ain't touchin' that $hit". Okay, so we have to throw away the stinky, smelly garbage like normal and keep it to one dumpster full, and stuff all the rest of the paper trash, broken radios, toys from pre-Y2K, and keep them in a nice dry spot in the basement until we can safely dispose of them.

Oh, and all those returnable pop bottles that we bring to the store once every three to six months, which earns us enough money to buy a few rounds of pizza? We absolutely cannot return those right now. (Note: Michigan is one of those states where you pay a 10¢ deposit on each pop and beer can or bottle and you get the money back when you return them. It makes you feel like you're getting free money, but you're not.) We're talking infection central when you think about how many mouths have touched those things, so I get it. But it really sucks because we can't even flatten the bottles and cans in order to save space while we save them for later because then the automatic code readers can't read them. So, we have several bags of rinsed, ready, and clanging returnables nesting right along with the other trash in our basement.

And what about all that stuff that we want to purge so you we get out our spring and summer clothes? No can do. Ain't no way they're taking our "corona-shoes" or "virus-socks" until probably around the year 2025. 

What will it be next? Don’t open your windows because other people don’t want your contagious air. Don't close your windows because you don't want to trap the virus inside. Don’t dust because you’ll be inhaling the dead skin cells of your family members past and present. (This is always true, I just thought I'd point out how gross it is.)

2. Creating new habits. Okay, most kinds of cleaning are off the table, except the occasional spritz of Lysol spray, which is being carefully rationed. How about cleaning out my pantry and deciding that this is it: This is when I will finally get rid of the junk food and pack the fridge and cupboards with good, clean, healthy foods, only to arrive at the grocery store to find out that the pickings are slim: Hawaiian pizza, Hot Tamales flavor Peeps, vegan cheese (and TBH, every other vegan food ever invented because most people won't eat that crap, even with their dying breath), Kraft cauliflower pasta (what were they smoking when they invented that?), and a single 1.75 quart container of Scooperman ice cream.

Okay, so I'll have to wait on the total revamp of our fridge, pantry, eating habits, and health in general.

Great.

3. Catching up on tasks I've been meaning to do. I figured I could sit down and write thank you notes, a job that usually piles up for 11 months until I finally tackle it and send cards to people who forgot what they did for me and why. Anyway, I started this task, but then I realized that some people are wary of the mail right now. So I felt compelled to leave a small note on each envelope assuring people that yes, I did wash my hands before writing this and not I did not breathe directly on the cards, even though I have absolutely no symptoms of COVID-19. You just can never be too careful. And I most certainly did not lick the envelope to close it; well, not after I remembered anyway.

4. Yard work. Forget yard work because the Christmas decorations are still up and they look rather lovely with the thick blanket of snow that Mother Nature forgot to dump in January.

5. Learn a new hobby. Right. If you're an overachiever who decides to learn Swahili during this forced vacation from reality, freaking whoop-de-doo for you! I doubt you'll ever use it. Or if you decide to get your yoga instructor's license online, I'm happy for you and your delusional waste of money. Just don't post about it because your overachieving, self-righteous, smug little toned butt is making everyone else feel like crap about merely surviving.

Some of us are happy to just subsist on whatever food we can find, practicing the occasional necessary hygiene, and keeping a fresh gin and tonic in our hands.

Thoughts on Quarantine, PART 1

Why am I writing this post? I mean, you're probably sick to death hearing "quarantine this" and "social distancing that" along with the occasional political argument about whether or not COVID-19 is a government conspiracy, an exotic meal gone wrong, or just a heaping plate of leftovers dished out from the plagues of Biblical times.

What else could Jen Yarrington possibly have to say about all of this that hasn't already been said?

Honestly, I don't really know. I'm just writing because I need something to do while being stuck at home.

Ah, quarantine. This actually reminds me of the good old days. When our kids were small, we would quarantine them for a week or so before we went on a trip to Grandma's house or on some other significant excursion during which we absolutely couldn't have children coughing up interesting colors of phlegm, spiking fevers or otherwise projecting bodily fluids in the general direction of whatever fun we were having.

However, it wasn't always a foolproof method. It may have happened (read: it most definitely did happen) that our children got sick at Grandma's house over the holidays. One managed to do the civilized thing and throw up in the house on some easily cleanable surface and that was it. However, her younger sister managed to wait until just the right time, which was when were traveling on a long and lonesome stretch of Highway US 2 somewhere in the Upper Peninsula. If you've never traveled this stretch of highway, you may not realize how few and far between the gas stations or other public establishments are. Meaning, as soon as you leave Manistique, it's just you and God's green earth (well, it was white at the time because, you know, winter) for the next 85 miles. Wait, is that right?  When I looked up this distance on Google maps, it said 85 miles. I can't believe someone got it so wrong. That expanse of deserted highway has to be at least 492 miles.

So we were moving along, slightly above the "recommended" speed limit of 55 mph and I handed out the sippy cups and a few snacks. It wasn't long before the previously unaffected child began to fuss. I looked back and she had just chugged a sippy cup full of yummy, red, juice in .00278 seconds flat. First came the whine, then the whimper, then the unmistakable look on her face that makes all parents panic, causing them to grab their kid in a football hold and sprint towards the nearest bathroom, knowing that vomit is imminent. And this vomit was. Imminent, I mean. Not to mention very red. And projectile. It's a wonder Al didn't get it in his hair (that's right folks, Al used to have hair) since the barfing child was situated directly behind him.

We pulled over on a deserted stretch of US 2 (have I mentioned how there's nothing on this stretch of highway?) with one kid puking, Al and me gagging, and the other kid looking an interesting shade of greenish-white. I threw the van doors open to get some of the smell out and let the frosty cold winter air in, and I began to dig through out luggage, but alas, there was not a single set of clean clothing to be found. So I resorted to digging through the dirty clothes bag and I found a warm and cozy sleeper that happened to smell like dirty socks, among other things, but it was far better than the pervasive stench of upchuck currently wafting through our vehicle. I managed to clean the kid up and wipe away residual puke from her car seat and other things as much as possible. Somehow we made it home with just the hint of "essence de chunder" for the next five hours.

Anyhoo, back to the word quarantine. It has been used in different ways over the years. We used to use it as a way to let the kids know that once we were within a week of any fun and/or family-centered event, they would forego their young social lives which consisted of play dates, preschool, and the occasional birthday party, all for the sake of having a puke-free vacation.

Was that whole anecdote necessary and relevant to what we're facing here in 2020? Not at all. I just really wanted to tell you the puke story. If you're ever interested, I have some other pretty good puke stories. And a few poop stories, too. Oh, and one time, one of our kids had the most disgusting rash on... well, never mind. (Send me a private message and I'll tell you.)

So during this current state of quarantine and/or isolation that is being “strongly suggested”, “mandated”, or potentially enforced by say, martial law, I'm completely at home in my element. I'm an introvert to the worst degree. It's so bad that when I am wanting to tuck in and stay at home, I instinctively want my kids to stay home, too. Why? Because going out stresses me out. Must be PTSD from the diaper days when I had 4 children, ages 5 and under, and going anywhere meant, wrangling children into a particularly small, enclosed area of the house, making sure each had gone to the bathroom, brushed their teeth and hair, and that they were wearing at least some kind of footwear. Oh, yes, it happened on occasion that my kids arrived at various public locations without shoes on because I assumed, wrongly, that footwear was an obvious choice for all living, breathing human beings who were leaving the house. And then there was the car toy check and the snack check and the diaper and wipes check, and depending on the age of the current baby, the spare outfit check. And honestly, that was just to go to Meijer.

Well, and don't forget the aforementioned puke and poop that occasionally happened while on an outing and the whole thing gives me flashbacks to battle scenes, mortars exploding around me, rockets whizzing by overhead, etc.

And I also remember the occasional, "well-meaning" (i.e. "nosy") individual who would make some snide remark upon seeing my teeming brood of children. One time I had one of those wonderful extended carts at Meijer - the ones that have a full seat behind the actual cart and handled like  semi truck - and I had a preschooler and a kindergartner on the bench, a toddler in the backpack, and a baby in the car seat in the cart. Now I was feeling rather proud of myself for accomplishing a shopping trip like this. But as I wandered down an aisle, minding my own business, a woman leaned into my field of vision and very authoritatively told me, "You need to stop!" I'm pretty sure she meant I had to stop having children, but I was so shocked at her audacity that I didn't come up with a really good comeback until much later, like when the baby started Kindergarten.

I have many thoughts on quarantine, some are insightful, some educational, and some, well, let's just say they may be the product of madness. Stay tuned for Part 2.