There aren’t many ways in which the COVID-19 pandemic is affecting me personally, here in Portland, Maine. When I was introduced to two women outside Nellie and Mike’s house the other day, they both shook my hand. It was automatic, but I thought about it afterwards, might have washed my hands more quickly than usual. A college reunion event scheduled for early April has been cancelled. My writer’s retreat for mid-May is still on, but they’ve warned us to “stay tuned.” That’s about it.
For those of us who are not currently attending a workplace in the public sphere, whose work is mostly at home or online anyway, we don’t feel it so directly. However, when I took Fiona to the supermarket today, I wasn’t able to get toilet paper. This still dumbfounds me, frightens me, in fact, much more than the virus. Human beings in irrational panic mode are terrifying.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 199: 151 words, TOTAL = 32,558; 27,442 remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families.