I am still a caregiver for the elderly during a major pandemic. The job gives me a chance to help people and its oddball hours allow me to continue with writing, which brings me happiness. Due to random circumstances, I haven't had any hours (ironically, not as a result of the virus), so it allowed me to stay home. There's a silver lining to every cloud; since I've been rationing food, I've actually lost 10 pounds (and right in time... my triglycerides were on a steady climb for years, and just recently my VLDLs finally registered as high).
Things are slightly askew with the clients I do have. One fellow named Harry was sipping on his lemonade and began to choke. He had to pause when he was done to assure me that it went down the wrong pipe, and not that he was contagious and ill. I'm pretty sure I was able to pick up on that. The first day when the panic and hysteria were just settling in across the country, I was at the library for my Writers' Group. I was out at the computer printing up one of my short stories when within the span of five minutes, I witnessed these three things: A grown man came out from the Children's Library and said the following to the librarian, "Um, Miss? Some kid just sneezed back there. Do you have any disinfecting wipes so's I can clean it up?" Then a few seconds later, a guy be-bopped in, asking where they kept the Purell dispenser. "Across from the bathrooms," was the answer. By now, it was time for me to pay for my printouts. Cost me .75 cents. But when the librarian went to give me my change, she did one of those deals where her hand was a good foot above mine, at which point she dropped the quarter into my palm. Good thing I caught it! Do I really look that dirty and diseased?? Like Pigpen from the Charlie Brown cartoons??
Hmm.
