Quarantine Fatigue: A Saga

The hours of the days have melded together in rather upsetting ways. It’s either Monday or Friday, you struggle to gather your senses, idle in your bed. “Great, another day of inactivity, with a hint of introversion. Rise, brush, rinse, scroll, type, open, chop, whisk, digest, gulp, scan, emotional response, disgust, scroll, emotional response, type, change, sweat, scroll, listen, sigh, rinse, lay. Zoom conference at 5 with the girls?”

The mind can feel fogged at a time like this, the slew of trivial information can be frankly foreboding. It is either Sunday or Thursday, not sure yet. The phone could be wrong you know? So today is the day I will be productive. It’s already 3 pm… But that doesn’t matter it is time to work, feel secure, make capital, keep the family safe, put food on the table, and all that! Never let a good disaster go to waste they said! Who said that, was it, Bill Clinton?

It’s either Saturday or Wednesday, I’ll know once I go online.

Another day another dollar. Remember to get creative guys! Start a Youtube channel, a podcast, a TikTok, a journal, create a Pinterest, take moody pics in your room, read, create a workout plan, cook, contact your local representatives to air your grievances.

You are 96.999% sure it is Sunday. Or least it feels like a Sunday. You’ve got some unexpected news. A package has arrived at the doorstep. With it, a visitor. Another warm-blooded, able-bodied, oxygen breathing, 2 legged, 2 arms creature that looks similar to the creatures on you see on the news. The mask covered up his mouth and oddly enough only half of his nose. She peeped her head out.

“Yes?”

“Package for you Miss.”

“Thanks just leave it there”

She was sure he hadn’t sanitized his hands. Her eyes were on him as he lay the package down gently, waved his goodbye, and drove out of her driveway. The next challenge is presented. First, she needed gloves.

Second, hand sanitizer.

Third, Lysol.

It was at this moment, Evelyn Rivera realized she was certainly a hero. She was not only protecting herself but the entire community of the ravaging disruption of social norms known colloquially as “the amazon package.” The gloves she had found were simple gardening gloves, a brilliant yellow with sunflowers scattered about it. These were sprayed with an abundance of Lysol, with a preemptive hand sanitizer washdown.

The package was sprayed next, she made sure to do it outside before moving it. She hoisted the package up (with glove and mask on of course) and made sure to place it on the pre-disinfectant wiped counter. She grabbed a knife and cut open the package, revealing her 4-pack Lysol wipes, an exercise cord with 15-pound resistance, toilet paper, and a week late mother’s day card. This is great, she thought, now I’ll be good for at least another two weeks. The gloves were off now. She grabbed the wipes and took out the late delivered card while realizing she has to send her mother a ‘sorry’ text. At this moment Evelyn gasped at the thought of what she had done.

She hadn’t washed her hands.

Technology is a useful servant but a dangerous master

Christian Lange

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