Waking to the news that this Coronavirus jobbie thing is now a pandemic, I started counting my blessings.
They are as follows:
They are as follows:
- I live in a first world country with great medical facilities
- I am under 70
- I am reasonably fit and healthy
- I'm not immuno-compromised
- I have a job that pays sick leave and holiday pay
- I have the ability to work from home if I have to
- I'm not inclined to panic
- I've not traveled anywhere further than Spotswood and Caulfield over the last few weeks
- I live in a place where I can order from the supermarket and have food delivered to the door if I have to self-isolate.
- We may not have to get up at stupid 'o' clock in a few weeks and do the Camberwell market because it may not be running
- I've got some food stored away.
On that last point, I'm not a true stock-piler, but at any given time, I easily have about two weeks food supply in the flat. After being in povo mode for the last few months, I've had a lot of staples in the place. Cans of beans. Two or three packs of pasta. Meat in the freezer. A dozen eggs. An extra brick of long life milk. Bread in the freezer. The only thing I would have to get in is fresh veggies. But I'm sorted.
I've also got seven rolls of loo paper and two boxes of tissues. I'm good for a fortnight.
And I recognise how very fortunate I am to be in this situation.
But I'm making some necessary adjustments.
The work laptop comes home every night. I don't like this, but it's a work directive. The VPN has been tested.
Tonight saw me out at Officeworks buying a monitor and cables - in preparation for what seems to be inevitable. Lockdown at work. Call trees activated. Working from home for an indefinite period is a possibility. It's feeling like it will be a matter of when, not if. (The screen is needed anyway, I'm good with this)
Public transport is quieter. The streets are quieter. They gym is quieter. Shops are quieter.
Talking to my barista (in fractured Greek for greetings - go figure) custom is down some 50%.
My sister has just cancelled her first overseas holiday in ten years. They were going to Singapore and Thailand. They can't afford to self-isolate when they get home.
I passed the soap guy on the way home from the gym tonight. We bumped elbows and smiled at each other.
These are strange times.
I just wish we had an all round fix-it, like Douglas Adams and his towel. According to The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy,
"“A towel,says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-boggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.”
But most importantly: Don't Panic.
Today's Song:
I've also got seven rolls of loo paper and two boxes of tissues. I'm good for a fortnight.
And I recognise how very fortunate I am to be in this situation.
But I'm making some necessary adjustments.
The work laptop comes home every night. I don't like this, but it's a work directive. The VPN has been tested.
Tonight saw me out at Officeworks buying a monitor and cables - in preparation for what seems to be inevitable. Lockdown at work. Call trees activated. Working from home for an indefinite period is a possibility. It's feeling like it will be a matter of when, not if. (The screen is needed anyway, I'm good with this)
Public transport is quieter. The streets are quieter. They gym is quieter. Shops are quieter.
Talking to my barista (in fractured Greek for greetings - go figure) custom is down some 50%.
My sister has just cancelled her first overseas holiday in ten years. They were going to Singapore and Thailand. They can't afford to self-isolate when they get home.
I passed the soap guy on the way home from the gym tonight. We bumped elbows and smiled at each other.
These are strange times.
I just wish we had an all round fix-it, like Douglas Adams and his towel. According to The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy,
"“A towel,says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-boggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.”
But most importantly: Don't Panic.
Today's Song:
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