Seriously, what are the rules?
It dawned on me last night as I unwrapped Chinese take-out in prep to have a Zoom dinner party with best friends 4 miles away that I have literally no clue about the actual rules of this pandemic.
This is my Day 53. I’m more than half way to 100 days of living in a Covid world, but somehow not a Covid girl? I follow my mayor and governor on Insta for state and local safety standards. I read articles about the virus from reputable sources, daily. I check in with doctor friends about their standards for sanitization, socialization, and my likelihood of getting this fucking thing. None of them say the same thing.
So if you held a gun to my head right now and said “tell me if you’re supposed to wipe down the pork fried rice container!” I would die.
Roughly 41 days ago we were definitely supposed to wipe down that PFR. Supposed to because if we didn’t we could catch the virus. I watched 10-15 YouTube videos on the subject. I went to five Targets in pursuit of Lysol spray. I conserved paper towels like they were watermelon Jolly Ranchers circa ‘93 in prep for all the wiping.
Now, apparently, it’s very hard to get the virus off a surface like cardboard or plastic so you can just put the your cardboard or plastic containers away, straight from the grocery store? But they have to go untouched for 24 hours, I think? So you do wipe down the ones you know you’re going to use within the 24 hours? Either way I know you’re supposed to wash your hands after touching - I think - anything from the grocery store for the length it takes to sing one of the 5,000 songs now available via that graphic image with the hands and the song lyrics underneath. That image haunts me in my sleep. Just kidding. I don’t sleep.
Maybe that’s because I’m up trying to figure out when, exactly, I’m supposed to be washing my hands.
Say I wash to whatever song I want (because I just found this Wash Your Lyrics Generator app. OF COURSE). I have a bag of chocolate-covered anything that I’ve just purchased from the grocery store. The bag is plastic. Say I can somehow find the will-power to wait 24 hours to eat the chocolate-covered anything, so I put the bag in the cupboard. But since there are 276 plastic bags of food in the cupboard, it touches two of them - a front-of-the-concert style smoosh (if you remember concerts?) Ten minutes later I manage to avoid eating my new chocolate-covered virus pods, but do reach for the salt-dipped something they’ve been hugging. Do I wipe that bag down? Or do I just wash my hands to TLC’s Waterfalls before consuming my salt snack?
That’s a trick question. The answer is no regardless of CDC standards (that don’t exist) because the Wash Your Lyrics generator only gives you the start of any song, and I only want to sing the rap section of Waterfalls. We all only want to sing the rap of Waterfalls. Fix the fucking generator.
But on a serious note, what are all slash any of the rules?
Take masks. My city says we’re required to wear them in public places. Is every sidewalk a public place? Or do they mean interior spaces where there’s people traffic? Also, who is they?
Let’s pretend (which is what I do anyway) it’s all places outside my own home. If I’m in my mask and you’re in your mask, do we still have to be 6 ft. apart?
If we’re both wearing masks and can therefore be closer than 6 ft., do you still have to stay outside my house?
If you can come inside my house and stand closer than 6 ft. from me while wearing your mask, do you still have to not touch anything?
What about my dog?
I know dog’s can’t get it. (Actually, I don’t know that, but I have to say I do for the sake of my sanity). But what if you touch the metal parts on my dog’s collar? Do I have to wash his collar to the wrap part of Waterfalls?
(I timed it. You’re welcome: I seen a rainbow yesterday, but too many storms / Have come and gone, leaving a trace of not one God-given ray / Is it because my life is ten shades of gray, I pray / All ten fade away, seldom praise Him for the sunny days / And like His promise is true, only my faith can undo / The many chances I blew to bring my life to anew / Clear blue and unconditional skies / Have dried the tears from my eyes, no more lonely cries)
My point is…hmm…what is my point?
That I’m annoyed.
That I’m frustrated.
That I’m sure this is somehow Trump’s fault.
That it all leaves me feeling overwhelmed every day.
And if I follow that overwhelm through the part where I do eat the whole bag of chocolate-covered whatever; down the path that made me want to scream at a stranger for touching my dog; over the pile of masks that I never know when and how to clean - I land at the one thing I actually do know about this situation:
Not knowing makes me angry, sad and scared.
I’m angry because the less we follow whatever rules should exist the longer we’re going to be stuck inside. I don’t have to list out what’s being hurt by this Quarantine. You know. So I’ll just say that I’m supposed to meet my first baby niece in July, and if I can’t because you assholes couldn’t miss a beach day…
…I’m going to be so sad. And this is already sad enough.
Why?
Because people are dying and - from what I gather - we don’t really know why.
Enter fear.
Again.
It’s a regular Elizabeth and Phillip Jennings. Always popping up in some shit disguise that still fools me every time.
(We’re watching The Americans. In Season 4 they finally give Phillip a beard. It’s somehow worse)
Spoiler alert: this post isn’t going to end with a clear list of the rules I’m following and my presumed likelihood of their success. I really don’t know. And I’m sorry, but you don’t either.
It’s going to end with the thing - I now realize - inspired this post in the first place.
California is starting to re-open as of May 15th. The process will be slow and - they say - done with public safety in mind. But I’m anxious because I feel like people are going to start socializing, and I’m not going to know if I should, too.
I - cannot believe I’m going to type this - think I wish we could just stay in full, clear quarantine until we know it’s really safe to shift.
How’s that for full circle? My Quarantine suddenly shows up as my friend. Now that’s a disguise.
So, if you invite me to a socially distant gathering at your house on May 16th, I might not come. And I’m worried you might think that’s ridiculous.
But if all the doctors and scientists and government officials in the world can’t write solid Covid-safety rules for me, you sure as hell can’t either.
I guess I’ll just believe in [myself], the rest is up to me [not] you.
