It’s kind of weird to sell your house during a pandemic. There are no open houses. Showing by appointment only. Hand sanitizer and shoe covers. But when we leave in the afternoon for people to come look, we have no where to go. You can’t hang in a coffee shop or go to your friend’s house. Today when we left, I had a work meeting so I did actually go to Starbucks. Obviously not inside, but I sat outside the drive thru one and used their WiFi. After that, we ate dinner in a park.
When we got back, I went around the whole house with a spray bottle cleaning doors, light switches, counters, etc. And we still have tomorrow and the weekend too!
Everyone says it will sell fast because that’s what the news has been saying. Fingers crossed. But I am taking it week by week. Because after that is escrow and inspections. I am already pretty tired of having to let people in my house. Which I guess is what makes it more stressful. There’s more hypervigilance around all of these regular interactions. And so far we have learned that we are on the more cautious side than other people. But you we are nurses. We’ve spent the last 6 months being vigilant for our patients and ourselves. It doesn’t turn off easily (not that I want to). I do wonder how hard it will be to go back to regular interactions when the pandemic is over (is that coming anytime soon?).
Wow, this year continues to crush us. The west coast is on fire. We left home because the fires in the mountains were causing so much smoke I couldn’t sleep. The other morning my husband woke up next me in a hotel room in a pandemic 90 minutes from home and he was stressed. He turned to me and said what if all these fires mean we can’t sell our house?
I don’t know. I really don’t know. I mean, we’ve been saying things are getting worse for years but we haven’t been able to understand what getting worse looks like on an individual scale. We’ve been a bit protected in our careers and our privilege. These things that are happening are a constant back drop of dispair and now personal impacts that show up in ways we don’t always expect. On a macro level, you say of course the west coast is on fire. Of course this administration has failed us in a pandemic. But then you find yourself trying to book a hotel in a not crowded place to work from during a pandemic with better air quality without spending too much money and you think- what the fuck is this life?
Hey, I get it. I am lucky. Lucky I have a job. Lucky I had $600 to spend on a hotel for 3 nights by the ocean. Lucky I have a car. Lucky I am not sick. But some days lucky doesn’t feel so fabulous. And I can’t help but wonder, how did people survive WWII? How did people rebuild Japan after the bombing of Hiroshima? How about Vietnam after the US pulled out? I think a history of terrible things and wonder how do people recover mentally, spiritually, and emotionally?
But then when I think about that, I feel like I’d rather bury my head in good fiction or mindless television or play music loudly. Maybe that’s how people survive. Maybe other people’s art is literally how people survive. I wish I could say my faith is carrying me through. But it’s not. It’s me going through the motions. It’s me wondering how faith matters in the face of climate change, pandemics, racism, and willful ignorance.
But that’s just part of today. Today I also went through boxes of slides, photos, developed negatives, and old camera equipment with my husband. We made piles to keep or not keep. I’m taking Teddy to the vet so all of his shots are in order for a move. I am continuing on as if things will continue on. And that’s how we are getting through another day.
My oldest kid had a fever last Thursday. 100.4. They were sent home from work (yes, I said they-they/them pronouns are being used). Because of this, I have quarantined them in their bedroom with a designated bathroom. All day long we deliver food on disposable plates to limit dishes going in and out. We text and call to check in. They have a thermometer and check their temp.
I am home from work. My work wants me to stay home until we get test result. Have you tried to take a a test recently? There is a lot of searching online for available appointments. Because getting a test requires an appointment. I finally got one by getting up at 4:30 to see the newly released appointments. Now we wait. Test results are taking a while-7-10 days.
There are 4 of us at home and we all trying to manage this situation. Sometimes I wonder if I am being to strict. But I know this was the CDC recommendation when one member of a household is suspected to have Covid-19.
In many ways, we are so lucky. We have enough money, insurance, etc. But we also worry. And get anxious about everything. So far we haven’t seen any new symptoms. I’m holding onto that as good news.
Which means this post will probably be ready by zero people. Despite that, I have been feeling like getting back into writing. It’s been a long time since I blogged, since I wrote in my writing club, and a while since I even wrote on my own.
My last post was 2 years ago when I turned 40. It feels like a lifetime ago. Has this pandemic aged us? These 4 months feel like they’ve been a whole year. Time has moved strangely through this pandemic. March felt like a crawl, while May went flying by. Some days feel soooo long. Those days include a lot of me laying on the couch watching #vanlife on youtube. We don’t go many places. Grocery stores, pick up take out orders, and work. So vanlife it is.
I started watching it because I was fascinated with so many of them being trapped during the pandemic. All of their videos were “trapped in Morocco” or “trapped in Argentina.” Let me tell you, there are a lot of criticisms I could make about vanlife, and I do at home on my couch, but I haven’t stopped watching it. All of the couples have found their way home and are filling their time (and videos) with projects. Projects feel purposeful. Watching them work on projects is relaxing. I get to imagine a life where work once again feels purposeful and future centered.
I am not saying my work has no purpose. But the future? It feels pretty uncertain. I don’t know exactly what we are all working for. I mean this in the sense that I cannot see past the next few weeks. This is the opposite of how I have lived my whole life. Not knowing how the next year will be leaves me feeling quite purposeless. So I watch other people’s purpose.
I do occasionally come up with plans or ideas. And then I get frustrated because I don’t know if they can happen or how they will happen. The news often grinds down my tiny hopes so I have to turn it off. And back to vanlife.