Day14

Today is Wednesday.  Two weeks since our youngest son and his wife left to go back North.  Two weeks since we ate on the beach, surrounded by all things denial.  I have been counting the days since we began "sheltering-in-place", cheating a little bit on runs to the bank and CVs drive-thru.  Oh yes, the Post Office - but only to drop off mail.  Honestly.

My husband is telecommuting to his small six worker firm.  All but two employees telecommute - Boston, Chicago, Baltimore, Wash., DC.  They use an internal Zoom-type service to connect.

I am starting to think of our food supplies.  Delivery services are backed up.  Whole Foods and Target are impossible.  Publix will make its first delivery today.  We have been eating lots of canned food.  Mostly soups.  I think I found frozen chicken in the bottom of the freezer. We still have eggs.

 This a.m. I am trying to make things normal.  Better than normal.  I sit on the lanai, sipping healthy licorice tea., reading a forgettable crime novel.

My husband walks out to where I'm sitting.  He looks shipwrecked.  His mustache is growing over his lip.  Something is wrong with his beard.  "Marjorie can't work anymore.  She needs to rest".  Marjorie and her husband Matt have COVID-19.  She has trouble breathing and a headache all the time.  They have two small children, the first conceived by a year's worth of painful IVF.  On Christmas cards he and his younger sister sport big glasses and red hair.  Mischievous, happy grins.  Their day care teacher has COVID-19. It was transmitted to Eleanor and Matt through contact with the children.  The teacher waited three days to tell the parents.

I start to clean out the kitchen shelves.  Alexa plays The Platters on I heart radio.