Friday, May 8, 2020

COVID Diaries Part Two: Covidception; I Dreamt the Pandemic was a Dream

Friday, May 08, 2020: 02:33am

I have been morbidly fixated on the cyclic sound of my fridge. It's an intermittent, low, buzzing grinding, sometimes droning, sometimes rattling and mostly humming, always maddening noise. On and then off. Loud. Silent. On. Off. I presume it's always been like this, but my ears, my mind, perhaps myself too, never noticed. I never heard it before and now I cannot stop hearing it. All the time. Day and night. On and off. Loud. Silent. On. Off. 

The other night, birds started chirping and shrieking outside my room. I thought it was almost morning; checked the time and it was 2am. The feathered fiends continued their shrill dissonance until hour four.  

There’s also a plague outside and I’m currently residing in a Kafkaesque dream being written by Edgar Allen Poe. 

Sunday, March 29, 2020

COVID Diaries Part One: Took My Credit Card to the Soup Store

Sunday, March 29, 2020: 3:33pm

I ran out of soup last Tuesday night. I contemplated whether I should go out and get more or to take this time to try and stay off of it for a while. Wednesday night went fine. Thursday I started fretting a bit. By Friday I had convinced myself that I would go get some on Saturday, even if I don't have soup for a few days, at least I would have some with me in case I ever needed it, or worse, in case they decided to shut down the soup store in this crazy pandemic.

I made a solid plan Friday night as to how I would go about procuring it. It went almost according to plan. 

Before leaving the house, I took out my credit card from my wallet and put them in my left jeans pocket, leaving my wallet (and phone) at home. I showed up at 10:59am at the soup store (their opening hours are 11am to 6pm these days). I wanted to be the first one in so as to avoid a crowd but as I approached the store, I saw 4-5 people already in line outside. Oh no. The main reason I wanted to go first thing in the morning was to minimize my chances of walking through an invisible mist of SARS-nCoV-2 that someone might have coughed or sneezed a few minutes (or hours) earlier that I would be completely oblivious of. A few people ahead of me put a slight hamper on my plans but oh well. It wasn't that bad. At least I would be able to hear/see them cough/sneeze and would be able to avoid that particular area.  

By the time I parked the car, the store had opened and people went in. I put on a disposable kitchen glove on my right hand, got out of the car, and put my left hand in my pocket. I went inside the store, grabbed a cart with my right-gloved hand, and went straight - almost straight except for a bit of weaving to avoid a woman lingering about in one of the aisles - to the creamy soup section exactly where I knew to pick up six 6-packs of creamy mushroom and broccoli, then onto the chili section to pick up two cans of beef chili and then some crab and lobster bisque. I was at the counter literally within 3 minutes of me being inside and was the first one there. 

The dude was quick to scan the items and I quickly paid with my left hand out of the jeans, card in the machine, PIN entered with gloved hand, card back out and left hand back in pocket. I wheeled the cart out to my car, opened the trunk, transferred the loot. 

As I was putting it all in the trunk, a sort of a greed came upon me coupled with a newfound sense of confidence. If I have two soups a day, this stash will last me 18 days. If I get 12 more, I can get by for 24 days. I'm already here, might as well go back in again.

So I went back inside, left hand in pocket, right-gloved hand pushing the same cart, and got 12 more cans. This time, I had to stand in line with two people in front of me. It was a tense moment. A guy walked in between me and the man in front of me to get something off the shelf and it freaked me out. I held my breath as he went past and only exhaled when I had reached the counter. 

Left hand out, tap the card this time, hand back in the pocket, cart wheeled out to the car, dumped the cans in the trunk. Then took the cart back towards the store after which I pinched the glove from inside near my wrist, took it off and ran back to the car. Used copious amounts of sanitizer on both hands. 

Drove back home and parked my car inside the garage. Went straight into the laundry area. Took off my shirt, pants, shoes, and socks; shirts, pants, and shoes went inside the washing machine. Ran to the bathroom sink, washed my hands for 30 seconds with soap (plus 10 for bonus) and then jumped into the shower. Took a long hot shower with lots of soap and shampoo everywhere. Still didn't feel clean. 

It's Sunday morning when I write this. All the soup cans are still lying in the trunk of my car. It will be 72 hours Tuesday morning at 11. That's when I plan on bringing some of the cans inside, washing them with soap in the kitchen sink, once for my satisfaction, and twice for good measure. 

I think I should do an online course and become a psychiatrist. Everyone would need therapy after this is over.