Isolation

“Are you talking to the robot?”

“Yes.”

Of course it was the robot I was speaking to. Blue, the cat, was outside romping around so it couldn’t be her, and besides me, Mary Anne was the only person in theĀ  house.

By the way, the cat is terrified of the robot vacuum so I’m not allowed to run it when the cat is in the house. I’ve tried.

“Why are you being so mean to the cat?”

I wasn’t being mean. My sister has a robot vacuum and she told me her cats got used to it and “don’t worry, your cat will still love you.”

I’m not mean to cats. I don’t like people who are mean to cats. So there!

It’s been 10 days I’ve been in self-isolation. Maybe I’ve started going bonkers.

I miss people.

At least Mary Anne lives here.

My sister-in-law, a nurse practitioner, insisted I should stay home. She lives in New York and is still seeing patients. For me, it’s no going to the office, no riding public transit, no dining in restaurants, and no shopping at the store.

Technically, or factually, I’m high risk because of my age, and since my spleen was removed over 30 years ago, that means my immune system is suppressed. I didn’t think much about it before. I’m not sure if I’m high risk to get it or high risk to have complications if I come down with it. Maybe both.

I was sort of depressed for a few days. If I am still depressed, I’m less depressed.Strangely, I am not anxious. I try not to watch too much news.

Maybe I should reread The Diary of a Young Girl to remind myself how lucky I have it compared to Anne Frank. At least it’s a virus that’s life threatening, not people of a certain mindset.

I work most of the day at the computer as I have remote access to the technology resources at the office. As of yesterday, all of my department colleagues from the University of California and Lawrence Berkeley Lab are teleworking – for at least a month. Psychologically, I feel more like I’m part of a group today.

Before dinner, I go out for a walk. It’s beautiful here on San Francisco bay, even when it rains, like today. Californians give thanks for the rain. The sight and scent of the spring blooms is overwhelming. Lifts my spirits.

 

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Dessert

My favorite store-bought chocolate is Chocolove. Most nights I have a square or two of their dark chocolate Sea Salt & Almond bar. Last night, as I put the outer wrapper aside to recycle, I noticed there was a poem inside. I read it and thought it was really good. It sunk in that I had been opening these chocolate bars for several years and had never noticed that there was a poem inside. I was dumbfounded. My only explanation is that I usually must not be wearing my reading glasses and I just saw blurred letters and thought it was a list of ingredients.

Eventually, after several readings, I noticed that the poem ended with a comma. Hmmm, must not be the end of the poem. So I looked it up and the beginning is not the beginning either. I think it can stand alone as is. Love’s Progress was considered scandalous back in the 1600’s and it’s a bit racy even today. A gift of poetic truth from John Donne.

Postscript: I’ve been through a few more bars and they all have the same words of John Donne. I guess I’ll have to look up his work on my own and not wait until more of his words are printed on a chocolate bar wrapper. I must say I enjoyed reading about love’s progress while chocolate slowly melted in my mouth.

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