Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 15

Tonight at midnight, my county, Gwinnett, will go under a “stay at home” order.  It means, stay home unless you have to do something absolutely essential . . . (and then there is a lengthy list of what is considered “essential”, such as food shopping and doctor’s appointments.)

So, what did my husband and I do before the clock struck midnight and Cinderella’s coach turned into a pumpkin?

We bought a microwave.

This is the second microwave we’ve bought in less than a month.  The previous new microwave broke.  The other day I pushed a button on the keypad and it did not work.  Period.  Our attempts to repair it via a YouTube video failed.  My husband’s attempt to find a repair place netted the following information:  1.  There’s really no place we can walk in and leave a microwave to be repaired, and 2.  It would cost as much to buy a new one as it would to have the old one repaired.

So, we are now the proud owners of yet another new microwave.

So far, it is heating what we need for it to heat.

When this quarantine is over and its history is written, I wonder if anyone would find this blog and scratch their head over what my concerns were?

Oh, well.

It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it 
And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 14

Two weeks down, how many more to go?

I almost did not write anything today.  It has not been the world’s best day:  woke up to help my son with a computer assignment, found out our BRAND NEW microwave WILL NOT WORK and a new one may not be in the offing for a while, had to reschedule a doctor’s appointment, and I’m just feeling a general sense of stir-craziness.

My BFF suggested that I play some Sims.  So I played a little bit (making sure that a couple of my Sims got into some good fights), supported my local economy by getting takeout from McDonald’s, and then the three of us went to a nearby park for a walk.  Walking trails in the parks in my county are open from sunrise to sunset.  Playgrounds are closed.

The walk was good.  Spring is here, in all its pollinated glory.  My husband and I passed two girls taking pictures (one was posing and the other was shooting).  Residents were just simply walking, or walking their dogs, or out with either family or friends.

We’re in a surreal time right now, of signs announcing “playground closed”, of #socialdistancing being the new hashtag, of anger and accusations of stoking hysteria or downplaying threats.  Some accuse others of wanting to sacrifice a percentage of the population in the name of the economy.  (I’d like to know, who decides who will be the sacrifices?)

But spring is still here.  Our flowers are still blooming (first forsythia, daffodil and cherry; then Bradford pear, then dogwood and azalea — and white dogwoods bloom before the pink ones) and our pine trees are emitting the greenish-yellow pollen that is the annual scourge of people with allergies and the major source of income of our car washes.

Certain things you can count on.  Spring will move into summer, and then fall, and then winter.

God is still here, even on my days of stir craziness and broken microwaves and online assignments.

He will still be here tomorrow.

So, one more time:

It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
i

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 13

When you start losing track of days, that is not a good sign.  I'm reminded of something author Corrie ten Boom did in The Hiding Place, when she was locked up in solitary confinement.  She wrote that it seemed strangely important to her not to lose track of time, so she created a homemade "knife" from a whalebone stay and used it to scratch a calendar of sorts on her cell wall. 

This has been feeling like either a Thursday or a Friday, when it's only Wednesday.  And I nearly lost track of what number I was on with this journal.  Was it day 12?  Day 13? 

There's been a lot of talk lately about faith, about, is it a lack of faith to not meet in a church building on Sundays during this outbreak?  After all, God doesn't want us to be afraid, does he?  And isn't choosing not to meet giving in to a spirit of fear?  Fear means lack of faith, and God isn't pleased with a lack of faith.

There's also been talk about, we should defy government orders and meet anyway (in response to executive orders limiting the size of group meetings to ten or less.)  After all, didn't Peter and John and the other apostles say that they must obey God rather than man? 

Lastly, doesn't the Bible say that we should not give up meeting together?  If we don't meet, and instead, rely on "online church", isn't that just the same as giving up meeting? 

Okay, I'm just going to give you my thoughts as someone who is a Christian but not a theologian.

No, I do not believe it's a lack of faith to not meet in a church building right now.  I do not believe that it's giving in to a spirit of fear.  There is a difference between irrational fear and healthy fear.  Being afraid of getting a novel (i.e. new) virus that there's no known treatment for yet is a healthy fear.  I don't want to get sick.  Therefore, I'm going to minimize my chances for getting sick by staying out of crowds.

Defying government and meeting anyway, in this case, is stupid.  We are not in the same situation that believers in China or Iran or the Middle East or North Korea are.  The preaching of the gospel of Christ is not against the law, and religious gatherings are not permanently banned.  We are being asked to temporarily refrain from meeting in a church building due to a public health risk.  This isn't a "We must obey God rather than man!" moment. 

And, the scripture referred to that says "let us not give up meeting together" really means, "let's not abandon meeting together permanently" or " let us not desert the fellowship."  Have we really given up meeting together?  No.  Many, many of us have been virtually worshiping through online services.  My own church has done that.  I could make a case for "deserting the fellowship" if we were not making any efforts to worship at all.

Lastly, I'm reminded of one of the temptations that Satan threw at Jesus when Jesus was being tempted in the wilderness.  He took Jesus to one of the high points of the temple and said, "If you're the Son of God, throw yourself down.  The Scripture says that 'he will command the angels to catch you'." (my paraphrase.)

Jesus shot back, "It also says not to put the Lord your God to the test!"

God loves us and I believe he will take care of us.  That does not mean that he has an obligation to protect me if I deliberately walk out onto 285 in the middle of traffic.  For me, that would be "putting the Lord your God to the test" and I do not want to do that to Him. 

I think God is a God who expects us to use the brains and common sense that He gives us, and if that means for right now, we do not gather together in a church building, then so be it.

I miss my church family.  I miss my sister group (my ladies' Bible study).  Virtual hugs just aren't cutting it right now.  But I will get through this a day at a time, and I believe God will give me what I need as I need it. 

Take a deep breath, all, and join me in our theme song:

It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 12

My BFF asked me today if I was okay.  She’d read my blog from yesterday and said it sounded like I was a bit stir-crazy.  Well, yesterday was an “I’ve been cooped up here for too long” day.

Today I did manage to keep busy.  Unfortunately, reality hit a little bit closer to home today.  for the first time since I’ve been working as a proofreader, I said that I was available for work and they had none to give me.  If lawyers aren’t taking depositions, court reporters can’t take down and produce transcripts for me to proofread.

So today, I caught up on laundry, filed papers, and even sewed.  The break may be good for me.  It will be a good time to catch up on a few things.

Okay, everyone, one more time.

It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 11

:: snarl ::

If this is what I feel like after only 11 days on semi-lockdown, I dread what it will be like on day 21, 31, etc.  My husband is now home for two weeks.  At least.  And all I have to say about the current shenanigans in the United States Congress was already said by Mercutio in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet:  "A plague on both your houses!"

It's probably time to turn up the theme song loudly:


It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 8

Today my husband and I went out together.  I wish I could say that we went out to dinner, but unfortunately, I had to get a blood draw and he needed to have an abscess on his back looked at.

But before that, I had my first experience with teletherapy.

I have a twice a month counseling session with a psychologist.  She, along with so many others, has moved to teleworking.  Today we had our first session with a screen separating us.  It went pretty well.  I had a little trouble getting into the session at first but was able to, eventually.  I was surprised, as I talked to her, at 1) how well I may actually be coping and 2) how normal so many of my feelings are.  My frustrations with the men in my household aren’t because they’re being nasty, it’s because life as we know it has been upended and we don’t know how long it’s going to go on.  There’s this undercurrent of uncertainty that’s underneath everything.  I don’t like it.  No one does.  But I realize that there’s an undercurrent.  There are reasons for my feelings.  In fact, there are very sound reasons for my feelings.

I did tell my counselor that if I had shown up dressed in a HAZMAT outfit with a mask, then she’d have reason to worry.  :-).

My husband and I went down to Dekalb Medical (now Emory Dekalb) to get our stuff done.  I have an endocrinologist appointment next week, God and COVID-19 willing, and I have a feeling that he’s not going to accept my rationalization of ‘stress eating’ as a reason as to why I have gained back weight I’ve lost.  (He is not a bad doctor.  It’s just that his bedside manner can be rather lacking at times.).   The woman who took my blood was dressed almost as if she were caring for an Ebola patient.  Well, maybe not quite THAT extreme, but she did wear a surgical mask and was wearing a disposable paper gown over her clothes.

The women in the office were also wearing surgical masks, almost all of them.

But here’s what was weird:  The parking lot was practically empty.  I’m used to having a lot of trouble finding a parking place outside of the building I go to and this time, I didn’t have a problem.  Elective procedures have been canceled.

The waiting room in the doc’s office was practically empty as well.

And the one thing I thought would happen with my husband ... didn’t happen.

You see, what I wanted to do was drop him at urgent care.  He thought it would be more efficient to go to the ER.  I thought, okay, if that’s the way you want to do it, but don’t be shocked if I have to pick you up the next morning.

The total time for both of us together to have our stuff taken care of?

Around two hours.  If that long.

My husband ended up having a cyst on his back.  What had worried me was that the area around the cyst was red.  I thought it might be infected and I didn’t want that infection to get into his bloodstream and turn septic.  So the docs in the ER drained it and fixed him up, and sent him home with antibiotics.  (He told me that the docs had called it a “classic drain”.  I sort of felt like he was a participant in an episode of Dr. Pimple Popper.)

While waiting on my husband, I went down to Joann’s Fabrics and got a mini muffin tin, on the reasoning that “if I’m going to be stuck at home, I’m going to do something productive!”

Then I drove down to a small park and took a few minutes just to walk around.

It’s spring in Atlanta, spring that brings the foul-smelling Bradford pears but the forsythia and the daffodils, the cherry blossoms and the redbuds . . . And the pollen.  Spring will always follow winter, and in Atlanta, the arrival of spring is not only heralded by the trumpeting of daffodils and the flowering of forsythia, it is also heralded by the sprinkling of pollen over every car, every driveway, every front porch, and every deck in the area.

But this is a weird spring, this spring of illness, this spring that will come marked with the acronym of COVID-19, that will be marked by canceled proms and canceled graduations.

I couldn’t put my finger on it while I was walking around the park, but things just felt odd.  Maybe it’s because I was carrying around in my mind the undercurrent of what was going on in our world.  There was a sign up at the park saying, playground closed until further notice, and I wondered if this was what the people who survived the 1919 flu pandemic experienced.

What I think it is, why I think it feels odd, is that we’re in the “falling into” phase of this event.  Every day is bringing more bad news; the market dropping more points, yet another prominent person testing positive for COVID-19, more governments, more municipalities enacting emergency orders, more places closing or severely restricting their hours.  We’re still falling down the hole and we have not hit bottom yet.  The fall, in this case, is a little bit like that awful autumn of 2008, where every day brought another drop in the market and another firm closing its doors.

When JFK was shot, or 9/11 happened, or the Challenger exploded, you had the “falling into” phase; where things were happening, one after the other after the other, rapidly and there was no way to stop them or make sense of them.  I guess someone’s terminal illness is a bit like that as well.  Outside you see the normal rhythms of life, of people going to work, running errands, shopping at the grocery store . . . And your rhythm has been totally upended.

I listened to a Paul Harvey news broadcast the day after JFK’s funeral.  The impression I got was that of a nation trying desperately to get its feet back under it after two men and four shots had knocked the feet out from under it and knocked the wind totally out of it.  People were jumpy, edgy, trying to navigate a new normal, trying to use the initials LBJ, not JFK; trying to say “President Johnson” and not “President Kennedy.”

We’re not there yet.  We’re still seeing the exponential growth of this illness, still hearing of people testing positive, still hearing of protective measures being taken.  My own husband is a federal employee and he has yet to learn whether or not he will be going back to work on Monday.   (He called in sick Monday, felt better Wednesday, and then went in that Wednesday only to be sent home with orders not to go back until Monday.).

We’re still in this odd, weird, “falling into” phrase where we have not adapted to what is “normal”.

Someday we’ll hit bottom.  Someday our feet will get back underneath us and we’ll learn to navigate again.

In the meantime, I will reload my weapon of humor daily with the ammunition of snark.

So, all together now:

It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it 
And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 5

One thing that has been made very clear in this crisis is that I have a moral, Constitutional, civic, fiduciary, and above all, Christian duty to give all the support and help I can to my fellow man. 

This evening, I accomplished all of the above in one fell swoop.

I ordered dinner for the family through Chick-Fil-A.

Why not?  After all, this is "God's chicken" we're talking about.  And I went to my nearest restaurant, which is a locally owned franchise.  And, since Chick-Fil-A, along with many other restaurants, have closed down their inside seating, they need to know that we support them.  

Besides, I like their food.  

So I made my moral, Christian, Constitutional, civic, and fiduciary contribution to the lifeblood of my community, and then I went home and helped eat it.  

Not long after I got back, groceries that I ordered arrived, delivered by a very friendly delivery person spending his first day on the job.  I wouldn't be surprised if he got hired because a lot of people are going to grocery delivery.  He'd texted me beforehand asking if certain substitutions were all right; I said yes, and when he told me he'd gotten what he could, I said, thank you, I know it's hard right now. 

One way we're being encouraged to support people is by supporting local businesses and delivery people.  So while I'm being tongue-in-cheeky about my duty to Chick-Fil-A, I do want to be serious about finding ways to support people. 

In the meantime, remember our theme song: 

It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it

And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 4

For those curious, “TEOTWAKI” is prepper-speak for “The End Of The World As We Know It”.  It’s usually used in referring to maybe a nuclear war or other sort of disaster which is going to end the world as we know it.

I’m trying to think of what life was like a month ago, when I’d gotten donuts for Matthew’s 21st birthday and when I’d gone the next day for a doctor’s appointment.  I’d heard in the news about this virus in China but wasn’t worried.

But in this last month, it’s been like a small storm cloud forming, maybe one you don’t really pay attention to, sort of like a new tropical wave forming in the Atlantic off the coast of Africa.

You might hear about it if you watch The Weather Channel but you don’t really think about it too much, and you go about your business.  You go to work, or to school, pick up the kids, go home, grocery shop, make dinner, etc.

Over the next few days you may hear about how that tropical wave has organized into a tropical depression and it’s heading west.

Hmmm, tropical depression now.  You wonder if it’s going to get any stronger, or if it’ll peter out, but basically you keep doing what you’re doing, living life as usually.

On the morning news a few days later, the weatherman may say, we have a new tropical storm.  It now has a name.

That may be when your ears start perking up, and when you start noticing that there’s a storm out there in the Atlantic, it’s summer, the Atlantic is warm, and that storm is picking up energy.

But you think that maybe it won’t head your way.  After all, tropical storms are unpredictable.  I mean, there’s a reason why, on The Weather Channel, the meteorologists refer to the “spaghetti model” when they are trying to track a storm.

So you keep going, going on about your life.

Until the words “hurricane warning” come over your radio and the hurricane warning flags raised in the harbor — the black squares framed by red squares — have absolutely nothing to do with the Miami Hurricanes football team.

That’s when you turn on the Weather Channel and see the torrential rain, the palm fronds being tossed around by the wind, the shingles from roofs and the shutters from windows being torn off and flung across driveways and parking lots.

That hurricane, which just a few short weeks ago was a simple tropical wave off the coast of Africa, now has a sustained wind speed of over 200 miles.  It’s a Cat 5, and that spaghetti model has the vast majority of those spaghetti noodles right over your home town.

The eye of the storm is headed straight in your direction, and the only safe place to go is to whatever and wherever your hurricane shelter is.

That’s what this last month has been like for me, in a sense.  I grew up in Florida.  I remember Agnes in 1972; although all I really remember is that one of our croton bushes in the front yard got bent at a weird angle and that Agnes wound up not just in Florida, but all the way up to New York.

I rode out Tropical Storm Kate in a college dormitory in 1985.
I rode out Hurricane Floyd in 1987 in a house in Miami, Florida.
And I rode out the big one, Hurricane Andrew, in 1992 in an apartment in Miami Lakes, Florida.

The arrival of TEOTWAWKI may come with the name of Andrew, or Katrina, or Harvey.

In this case, it has come with the name of COVID-19.
It’s also come with a roller coaster, crashing stock market, with government incompetence, with panic buying, and now with suggested guidelines from the CDC and executive orders from local and state officials, which all add up to:  Go home and stay home!

Just about a month ago, that little tropical wave was over in China and just barely making its effect known here in the US.

Now, it is Hurricane COVID-19, or maybe Hurricane Corona, at Category 5.

What do we do now that the hurricane is here, now that the metaphorical 200 mph winds are howling outside?

I’m lucky enough that I am able to work from home.  My husband still has to go into an office.  My son can do digital learning, and as of this evening, it looks like he’ll have to do it at least until the end of March.

I see reports on Facebook and Twitter about parents attempting to homeschool for the first time and realizing that it’s not as easy as it may look!

The dominoes are continuing to fall.  Now it’s the TV industry shutting down production of TV shows, including Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune, and Saturday Night Live.  The Chicago franchise series has also shut down production.

Is the hurricane going to end anytime soon?  Or will the winds keep howling outside and will more and more roof shingles fly off or shutters skitter across parking lots?

Right now, I am facing the storm armed with, among other weapons, the belief that God will take care of us, because he cares for the birds and we are worth more than many of them . . . and still also armed with a snarky sense of humor.

So, one more time on the chorus:

It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 3

Today was not the first time I'd ever done online church.  I've tuned in before to the Facebook Live stream when I've been ill.

But today?  It was a bit odd, gathering around my dining room table with homemade communion bread, with a six-pack of Welch's Grape Juice on the table, my phone propped up and streaming our worship leader and four members of our praise team singing.

I made communion bread for the first time ever.  My son commented on how "oily" it was, and he was right.

He made lunch (well, it was frozen fish fillets and french fries, but he still put it in the oven!)

I listened to my preacher's sermon, which focused on the story of Jairus' daughter and the woman with the issue of blood, found in Matthew 9, Mark 5, and Luke 8.  Our preacher talked about detours.  Jesus ended up taking a "detour" of sorts, because he was on his way to heal the daughter of Jairus, a synagogue leader, when a woman who'd had bleeding for 12 years came up behind Jesus and touched his clothes, hoping to be healed.

I think she'd just hoped for a crumb from under the table.  Instead, Jesus stopped everything and wanted to know, who touched me?

That was the "detour".  Jairus probably wringing his hands, the disciples wondering, how in the world could you know that someone touched you, with all these people around you; the woman, probably scared to death of being scolded . . . and who left with Jesus' "go in peace" benediction.

So how do we respond when we have this sort of "detour"?

For me, I don't know yet.  I know to look around me and see where the needs are.  I know to pray.  I know that since God cares for the sparrows and we are more valuable than they are, He will care for us.

Online, I see many Christians arguing about whether or not it was a lack of faith not to meet together as a congregation.  "Don't you trust God to protect you?"  (I'm reminded of a saying that might be a good response:  "Trust God, but keep your powder dry.")  How many of us meet together because we feel like we have to?  It's one of the "five acts of worship" that we must complete on Sunday, and only on Sunday, in order to stay saved?

I think, in these extraordinary circumstances, God understands.  He is a God full of grace and slow to anger, and those that quote "forsake not the assembling of yourselves together", in my opinion, take "forsake" to mean "missing the occasional service" rather than "deserting" or "turning your back on" gathering together.  Most people, when citing the reason they have stayed home from service or canceled their worship gathering, cite their desire to protect infecting high-risk populations such as the elderly or those with chronic illness.

I do plan to get out of the house for at least 30 minutes a day, if for no other reason than to get some fresh air and to keep from going stir crazy.  And I may re-read The Long Winter.  Unlike Laura Ingalls, though, I have plenty of food and don't have to grind my wheat in a coffee mill to make bread.

Tomorrow I will make a list and a possible schedule of things to do.

In the meantime, in keeping with the theme of this entry . . .

It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 2

I see already what my major enemy is going to be.  It's going to be boredom, alleviated by too much attention to electronics and social media.

I know, in my head, what the answer to this is:  write down a schedule, write down a list of things to do, and stick to it.

DOING it is the hard part.  There's such an attraction to social media for me, probably because I'm an introvert and it's an easy way for me to fulfill my need for connection without actually connecting. 

I have put stuff away in the pantry, taken out and finished folding laundry, and gotten my husband and son to at least put their laundry in their rooms. 

Me?  I have two baskets of my own clothes staring at me, needing to be put away. 

Once I get going, I do okay. 

But while I am writing this, I'm listening to an old episode of "Suspense", an old-time radio show that aired from 1942 to 1962, and playing with a couple of iPad games, and checking in on Facebook. 

This reminds me of what I did during a week where I was snowed in, along with family.  I imagined getting a lot of stuff done . . . and ended up in front of a computer screen, being BORED!

This is what is called cabin fever.

Which could be just as dangerous, if not more so, than COVID-19.

So, all together now on the chorus, today's theme song: 

It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 1

In the state of Georgia, the dominoes began to fall not long after 2 p.m., when Governor Kemp gave his news conference encouraging (not ordering) school systems and day cares to close if at all possible.

By early evening, at least four major school systems in metro Atlanta announced that they would be halting classes starting Monday.  My county, Gwinnett, will be doing digital learning for at least the next week.

The Georgia State University System had shut down for at least two weeks.
The NCAA Final Four, which would have been in Atlanta, had been canceled.
The Dow had suffered its worst loss since October, 1987, when the market crashed.
The NBA and NHL had canceled the rest of their season.
Major League Baseball had pushed back their opening day.
Disneyland, soon followed by Disney World, announced that they were closing their gates.

For us, the final domino crashed when my preacher put up a video on Facebook saying that we would not be meeting at the building Sunday.

I posted on Facebook, I can't decide whether I need to dig a bunker, buy up the rest of the toilet paper in my county, or grab yarn and needles and do some crafting while binging on Hitchcock.

Yesterday I did some grocery shopping and was able to grab a cart as I went in because someone was bringing the carts back.

Today, I took Matthew to get a haircut and I also got a haircut, because I decided I was going to do some self-care.

Then we plunged into the madness that, until yesterday, was known as grocery shopping.
Matthew and I went to Kroger, where I was looking for matzo crackers and grape juice for communion.  I also went, alone, to another Kroger and to Food Depot.  Aisles were crowded and checkout lines were long.

And shelves had gaps.

I grabbed two of the last four large jars of Kroger peanut butter.
When Matthew and I went looking for fish fillets, we saw that ALL of the hash browns were GONE.
At Food Depot, ALL of the bottled water was gone. 
I didn't see people fighting over toilet paper, nor were people being nasty to each other.  It was more like, well, here we go, let's get our stuff because we don't know when we'll have the chance again. 
Matthew saluted -- literally -- a couple of county firefighters/EMS that were picking up supplies.  I told them to hang in there.

I did not find my matzo crackers.

However, I did haul home peanut butter, canned fruit, cans of evaporated milk, two bags of egg noodles, and -- to show you that I absolutely have my priorities straight -- also hauled home six bags of chocolate chips, two bags of Reese's Minis, one bag of mocha latte coffee, two bags of popcorn, and four bags of chips.

My son will be doing digital learning next week.

I, next week, will work from home, along with the hundreds of thousands that have suddenly been thrust into the world of telecommuting.  Hey, I've been doing this for three years.  Step one:  Find a quiet area in your house, preferably with a closed door, and place a "Do Not Disturb Under Penalty of Extermination" sign on said door, along with a picture of a very large Dalek from Doctor Who.

My husband will still be reporting to work, but I'm suspecting the day will come when nonessential employees will be sent home.  And then I will put husband to work around the house.

I would like to think that, as a Christian, my role in this crisis will be to bring hope to the hurting and use my hands and feet to serve.  Yes, I'm looking for ways to help and ways to use my resources.  And I am also praying that I keep my head and not panic. 

But, honestly?  I really think my major role in this crisis will be the dissemination of snarky humor.

So, in that vein, everybody join with me on the chorus:

It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Twinkle, twinkle, wash your hands

"OMG, WE'RE ALL GONNA DIEEEEEE!!!!!"

There, now that I have gotten that out of my system . . .

Was it only a month ago that I went to the doc for my regular checkup and we had a quick conversation about "no, I haven't been to China lately, so I don't need to worry about getting sick with this new coronavirus"?

How quickly things can change!

I went to Walmart on Thursday, after a visit to the chiropractor, and saw with my own eyes the gaps in shelves that people had been talking about.

The gaps existed with:

• rubbing alcohol
• Clorox wipes
• toilet paper
• probiotics
• hand sanitizer
• liquid soap
• disposable gloves

.... and, believe it or not . . . Family planning!!


Now, I've read where people are using condoms in place of gloves (I have this picture of a weird version of Edward Scissorhands) but I also suspect that some people are taking precautions to guard against a nine-month-from-now baby boomlet of infants bearing names with variants of "Corona". 

(Side note:  I did the math a few years back and as a result, I'm convinced that I owe my conception to a flood in March, 1963.  Hey, when you're cooped up in the house, you gotta pass the time somehow!)

I had a "conversation" with an Asian man who ended up using his phone to translate what I was saying to him.  I was trying to explain to him that getting the last bottle of hand sanitizer couldn't hurt and it could help.  Not sure if his phone properly translated what I was trying to say. 

I didn't see anyone fighting over toilet paper, like they recently did in Sydney, Australia.  Then again, I use Amazon Subscribe and Save to get mine because I got tired of running to the store all the time. 

The cause of this hysteria is now officially known as COVID-19, the name given to this tiny mite of illness by the World Health Organization.  For those of you who, like I was, are curious as to where the name came from, it stands for COrona VIrus Disease 2019.  
Currently, according to Worldometers.info, which is frequently updated, there are 105,965 cases worldwide.  3,569 people have died.  58,628 people have recovered.  The number of people ill number around the population of Tallahassee, Florida, with the majority of them recovering.

So why the freak-out?  To borrow a Victoria Justice song, why are we freaking the freak out?

One, because this is a new virus.  We have no idea how it works.

Two, we have no vaccine.

Three, because it is now officially on all continents with the exception of Antarctica, which makes this disease a pandemic. 

Four, because people have died from this disease.

So how do we keep from getting sick? 

Well, the number one way is to practice good hygiene, which means, wash your hands, wash your hands, wash your hands.   The CDC recommends 20 seconds of good handwashing whenever necessary.

Twenty seconds is enough time to sing "Happy Birthday To You" twice, or "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" once.  So for about the last week or so, every time I've gone to the bathroom, afterwards, I've  mentally hummed "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" while I'm doing the following:

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are."  (Begin the song only after you have wet your hands and lathered with soap.  Then rub palms together while humming the first line of Twinkle.)

"Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky" (Pretend you're wringing your hands over the coronavirus or whatever disaster you want to panic about.)

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are."  (Lace fingers together and rub.) 

Twenty seconds of handwashing is now complete.

Depending on what mood I'm in, I may mentally hum "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat", a parody song from Alice in Wonderland.  And at least one Twitter thread has listed 20-second portions of songs you can wash to just in case you get bored with Twinkle, Twinkle or Happy Birthday. 

I admit to being concerned about this illness.  There are five confirmed cases in the metro Atlanta area and one possible one in my county.  And I'm hearing daily about new cases popping up in different states.  But the absolute worst thing in the world I can do is panic. 

So, if you hear someone screaming about, "OMG, Amazon is out of N95 masks, CVS is out of rubbing alcohol, Kroger's out of bleach, and Walmart's out of toilet paper!  WE'RE ALL GONNA DIIIEEEE!!!!"  just smile, pat the person on the head, and say, "Dude.  Chillax.  Here's some soap.  Go wash your hands." 

Then hand them a loop recording of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star".

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.