I understand that “a new normal” will become one of the pandemic-inspired catch phrases that we’ll all eventually tire of, if we haven’t already. However, I’ve seen evidence of this idea being truth reflected in how my dog’s behavior has changed during the quarantine. He has seen enough emerging and repeated habits from me that he’s assigned his own meanings to them. If I put shoes on, or pick up my keys, or a roll of poop bags, he’s always known we’re going for a walk. Now he’s added me walking out of my home office in the late morning (11:00) after I’ve finished my morning distance learning office hours, or putting on my mask as other walk triggers. I think he waits for me at the end of the hall in the morning, and on high alert, since he’s so sure we’re walking.
Between the time spent home and the days growing warmer, we’ve been walking a lot more, usually out at least two times each day, if not three. I’ve noticed my walking pace has quickened so I can keep up with Freddie and his speedy little legs, and my endurance has improved. Getting out for walks on the sidewalk and the pavement help keep Freddie’s little black nails trimmed, and gives him something to sleep about when I have to finish working in the afternoons. I’d lost two pounds during quarantine until I started using one of those food delivery services — it’s just too freakin’ easy to have the app right there on the phone, and a half hour later, there’s the food!
It seems like there are more squirrels and birds outside than usual springs, but maybe after all the reports of air pollution going down while the polluters are indoors and at home, that’s something I’m just looking for. Our neighborhood isn’t exactly party central, but it’s noticeably more quiet than usual. In the rare moments when a familiar car drives past while we’re out walking, I’ll still smile and wave, even if it feels kind of pointless to smile when they can’t see behind my mask.
I’ve been taking the shelter-in-place order a lot more seriously than a lot of people, judging by the number of cars that pass my backyard on the county road behind the house each day. If memory serves, I’ve only left the house twice in the past month, other than to go for walks or get the mail. I’ve heard of people comparing quarantine to being in prison, but I don’t see it that way. To me, it feels more like what I’d imagine living on a space station would be like. You have some room to move around, you’ve got things to keep your mind occupied, you have enough food and water, but you’re hyper-aware that leaving your confinement is a really, really bad idea.
I’m mostly okay with this, though. This kind of extended confinement would bother me during the summer; if I were on break and went through a couple of days not doing much or going anywhere I’d feel guilty about it, but during quarantine I don’t mind at all. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say I have some fine-tuned introvert super powers. As my sister said at the beginning of this, “You’re good at staying away from people.” Which isn’t about being anti-social, but about being comfortable while alone when the alternative isn’t a choice. I’d explain it by paraphrasing Bruce Banner in the first Avengers movie, right before he turned into the Hulk to join the fight in New York: “That’s my secret, Cap. I’m always lonely.”
But in a forced isolation like this, there are ways to manage it. Last night some of the staff from my school had an online trivia night, figuring since we’re all doing distance learning now we might as well take advantage of the technology at our disposal for some virtual social time. And it was great. We played and talked and laughed for three hours. By the time it was finished I felt like I was returning home after being out all night.
An event like that is more of an occasional thing though (at least for most of us), and we still need ways to survive what can feel like an unending overlap of carbon-copied days. It turns out that distance learning has been a big help with that. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying the experience is all rainbows, Skittles, and Lisa Frank stickers. There are still a lot of the same frustrations I have to deal with as a teacher, and this only amplifies them since I’m removed from being able to directly address them by a few more degrees. I have noticed that maintaining a routine in the day helps make it more palatable. Instead of thinking of quarantine as a trial with no end date in sight (because I certainly don’t expect to be going back to my actual school this year), I take the day in chunks. These two hours? Office hours. These two? A movie. Or several episodes of Community on Netflix. One more hour until bed. Listening to one album or podcast and setting that as the length of doing a specific chore.
There isn’t much choice to it really, but for now, my solitary nature and circumstance are keeping me happily and blessedly uninfected. Knowing what the alternative to that could be like? I don’t really mind.
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