"I'm too young for this!"

Several years ago, a young man in the youth ministry replied, "Yes, ma'am," when I asked him a question.

Later, I said to his mother, "I appreciated his manners, but I'm too young to be a ma'am!"

We both laughed as I said that. 

Today, I had another episode of, "I'm too young for this!" 

It all began with a trip to the dermatologist's office. I've been having serious discoloration and itching on my left leg for some time; have had two biopsies, both showing "spongiotic dermatitis", and finally decided to try a new dermatologist.  When I made the appointment, I said "eczema" was my problem.

The dermatologist came into the examining room, took one look at my leg, and said, it's not eczema, you've got some fluid buildup there.  The official name for my condition is stasis dermatitis.  

He's prescribed me a skin cream and also told me that there's a skin cream that can help with the itching. 

He's also told me to get a pair of . . . wait for it . . . compression stockings.  

He explained that it was supposed to help with the fluid . . . but all I could think was, "Compression stockings?  Those are for old people. I'll be 58 in October.  I'm too young for this!"

I am also supposed to keep the left leg elevated above the heart when possible.   

I told the doc, "Gee, thanks," sarcastically.  Later, I apologized for my snarkiness and said that what I hoped was healthy snark was one of the ways I dealt with things.  I think the doc understood.  I did tell  him, in all seriousness, that at least this was something that I could do (and told the nurse afterwards that it's better than hearing, there's nothing you can do.) 

On the way out of the building where the doc's office is, I stopped at their pharmacy and got a bottle of the over the counter stuff to help with the itching. 

So, I will be off to the Internet, that purveyor of all things necessary (and most things unnecessary) to find myself a pair of compression stockings. 

And since I'm supposed to be keeping my leg elevated, I am sorely tempted to call my insurance company and ask if they would be willing to pay for a La-z-Boy recliner because I need it for medical purposes.

I am sure, however, that their answer -- delivered with the appropriate snark, of course -- will be, "No."

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.