Category: Pandemic

Human Error Water

For a change of pace, just to break up the consequences from natural disasters, Austinites underwent a water boil restriction because someone did something wrong. If I hadn’t been under a pandemic quarantine for nearly two years, then I would have immediately entered Peace Corps mode and boiled water as soon as my roommate had told me about the boil restriction.

The bottled waters one of my sisters had bought back in December 2019 when she had visited were a saving grace. She was in the middle of some crazy water cleanse and had bought several liters of distilled water. So many that I still had two of those huge containers. Still, they only lasted two days. I hadn’t noticed how much water I drank throughout the course of my 8-hour shift since I kept refilling my water glass with tap water. Until I couldn’t.

Me being my typical Virgo self, I wasn’t about to go to grocery shopping for bottled water before my usual grocery-shopping day. By that time, the large containers were gone. I bought two 1-liter bottles because I want to have stored water on hand. Yet, I boiled a large pot of water, which sufficed until the boil restriction was lifted.

Now the potable tap water has returned, the ice storm has passed and the temperature has warmed. In those moments of bliss where there aren’t any disasters, natural or humanmade, I’m going to celebrate the circumstances as a win.

Parking Lot Lake

If one natural disaster doesn’t get me, there’s always another around the corner. On Monday, the sustained heavy rains created miracle lakes everywhere. Miracles because after all this time, money and enthusiastic construction, it is truly a miracle that no one can build things in a way that doesn’t collect water in all the wrong places rather than spread it throughout nature, where it could do its best work.

That wonderful feeling I usually get when landing a parking space was fleeting. I pulled into spot that was part of the parking lot lake. Stepping out of the car, I patted myself on the back for wearing hiking boots. As I stepped through the gently rolling waves, I worried about how drenched the cuffs of my pants were while the pelting rain wetted the rest. Then I discovered my boots weren’t waterproof.

The travel adventure ended once I entered the grocery store. After two years of living with a taxed supply chain, I strolled up and down the aisles foraging for the closest approximation of the items on my digital grocery list.

On the return trip to my car, the sky was darker and the lake had swelled. Despite the latter condition, all I could think of was pushing my basket as quickly as possible through the rain and flood. Then I made another discovery.

Some safety mechanism on the cart’s wheel locked in place. I reached down to unlock the one wheel that prevented me from pushing the cart with ease. Finally, I settled for half pushing, half carrying the cart onto the sidewalk.

Even though I only had three reusable bags full of groceries, they were heavy. Daily planks had strengthened my core so I wasn’t stranded, needing someone else’s help. I made several appeals to the Higher Power for my bags not to rupture. At the same time, my mind churned with the thought, “I will kill a motherfucker if a bag breaks and someone gives me a hard time.” Once I waddled to my car, stowed the groceries and sat in the driver’s seat, I took a moment for some deep breaths.

As I’d agonized my way over to my car, I noticed that the best bet was to back out and turn around, despite how the parking space was angled. That would require me to make a 3-point turn. I waited for a lull in traffic. Definitely didn’t want the car version of something getting locked or stalled like the grocery cart did. Fortunately, none of my fellow drivers were assholes. They were in the lake and respected that my small car was attempting to head in the opposite direction.

After that, I didn’t mind the slow progression home. No need to rush through 6 PM traffic in the pouring rain. All that awaited was the pandemic and fretting about whether the electrical grid would hold up during the ice storm later in the week.

Stage 5 Navigation

Even after two vaccinations and a booster, I still won’t eat indoors at restaurants. Thanks to global warming, this mild winter means that I can occasionally meet a friend or two at a restaurant for outdoor dining. Of course, there are heating lamps for when it actually feels like winter.

Nonetheless, the African dance troupe that I’m recently a probationary member of still attempts to meet as safely as possible to rehearse. Once, we met originally to dance outside, yet the combination of uneven ground, a strong wind and no drummers brought us all inside to dance to a digital recording, linked to the studio sound system. Let me back up: we did have a drummer show up, but he expected to borrow a drum. Just like one of the dancers had expected to dance outside and left when majority of the group voted to go inside instead.

I continue to be grateful for having a stay-at-home job. It’s part of the job description. Not only that, but the company has fully leaned into retaining the virtual positions, given our proven success. Recently, I switched teams. As much as I liked my former team, some of the coworkers who I was closest to have moved with me, so the change wasn’t too bad. Plus, it’s good to switch things up periodically, especially when there’s an opportunity to be promoted.

One thing looming over every Texan’s head is the electrical grid. Will it or won’t it go down when we need it the most? If I were to believe my roommate, the grid will be just fine because she’s now prepared for it to go down. At this point, that’s one superstitious belief I’m willing to subscribe to.

I read that one symptom that we all exhibit after two years of being in a pandemic is having a narrower bandwidth for accomplishing things that used to be much simpler in the before times. The way this manifests itself in my life is that I’ll read about something, say an event or activating a credit card. Days will tick by before I do anything about it. Despite this self-awareness, I rationalize the feeling away by thinking, “Why do I have to rush through anything anymore?” Since this pandemic, my social calendar has been quite clear. Not that I want to fill it with a lot of work.

The world has changed. The supply chain cannot even keep up with the pace of where it used to be. Apparently, that was all an illusion anyway. Simply enjoying one day at a time as it comes is the best way to go.

2021 Thanksgiving

For the first time in my life, I only had one day off for Thanksgiving. Not really too much of a problem since my present job is super chill and there’s no such thing as a destination vacation for me during a pandemic. Even if I had the time, I don’t have the money.

My original Thanksgiving plans fell through a few days before I’d bought groceries. Although I could have had backup dinner plans, I liked the idea of selfishly spending the entire day just leisurely on my own schedule. Except for the part where I took a virtual yoga class.

At any rate, the sign of the times caught up with me. A few people, who had attended an in-person maskless event where I’d enjoyed myself immensely, had tested positive for COVID-19. So, in a way, things worked out for my selfish celebration. The soonest I could schedule a rapid test was Saturday morning. Honestly, you don’t have to tell me twice to enjoy a day off, work another day, then get two more days off.

After my midday workout, I made my Thanksgiving Day meal: Vegetable Coconut Curry with Tri-Colored Quinoa. 

Although I worked on Friday, AKA the notorious “Black Friday,” my coworkers and I joked about being safely at work rather than caught up in all the madness.

As soon as I sent word mid-Saturday morning that I’d tested negative for COVID, I got an invitation for brunch. Fortunately, my schedule was clear.

Once again, no traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings. Not that I complained. Very far from it. After a selection of cheeses, dips, and chips, I enjoyed a deliciously grilled steak with steamed French fries. Of course, I brought some steak home!

For dessert, there were a selection of digestifs.

I insisted on just getting a “taste” of all of them because I still had to drive home afterwards. My favorite treat was the almond-flavored tequila. Some are too harsh for my palate, but not this one.

My friend gave me a boot-shaped shot glass and kept filling it as if it were a firefighter’s fundraiser.

Fortunately, her son was in town and not driving, so I passed the boot to him to polish off, then I tried the next selection.

At the end of the evening, I didn’t recall that I hadn’t enjoy a four-day weekend. No, I wasn’t drunk. After all these years, I’ve had stressful jobs I’ve loved. Stressful jobs I’ve hated. Unstressful jobs I’ve hated. And finally, I’ve got an unstressful job I like. Not love. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. It’s challenging to match the joy of the best days of teaching to what I’m doing now. It’s close though. This among the things I’m grateful for.

How Corona Measures Up

The physical appearance of this on-going pandemic has manifested all over my body: 147 lbs, 35″ bust, 35″ waist, 41.5″ hips, and 23.25″ thigh. Never in life have I ever summarized myself in such numeric terms besides age, but I recently joined a “life improvement” challenge. Granted, the point is both physical and mental improvement. I especially want to lose the pandemic pounds along with the reoccurring negative thoughts.

Yet, the physical measurements are both easier to ascertain while at the same time harsh to read in black and white. I’m well aware that numbers don’t lie, but people can lie with numbers. The lie I may be telling myself about these set of numbers is that they’re the conclusion of an on-going pandemic, middle age hood, and a full time desk job.

I’ve done everything I can to counteract all except the aging part. I’m not obsessed with reversing the aging process–just living through it healthily and pain-free. As far as the pandemic, I’m double vaxxed and considering the booster. As far as the J-O-B, I got a standing desk, which I started off using just for the last 90 minutes of the work day, then the last two hours, and finally close to four hours.

I’m doing all I can to mitigate the curveball changes in the course of pursuing happiness. But those numbers. Once I got those measurements, I felt less attractive. I envisioned the top half of my body as a cylinder and the bottom half as a sphere. Contained within, a restless blob.

As disjointed as that image is, I’m working to reconcile body positivity with getting back into shape and embracing a more positive headspace. Part of the challenge is taking a daily supplement. The upside is that it gives me more energy, better sleep and suppresses the hunger pains, which means the munchies have disappeared. Eventually, the weight will too. The downside, I’ve got one more thing that’s become a part of my morning routine.

What Would It Take

The saddest biographies I’ve read lately are the deathbed confessions from formerly staunch anti-vaxxers. They had a cornucopia of reasons for not wearing masks nor getting vaccinated. As illness ravaged away their political opposition to fighting a virus, they expressed regret and urged loved ones to get vaccinated. At least those who lingered long enough to communicate.

One father of a 5-month old baby boy urged others to get vaccinated prior to succumbing to a COVID infection. Looking at that sweet picture of a proud father and angelic cherub who was his daddy’s spitting image, I wondered what would it take to persuade people to fight against COVID. Obviously, this son wasn’t enough to sway his father.

As someone who chose to be childfree, I’ve often heard parents state that they would do anything for their children, but, as I’m seeing, there are limits to that. Some parents, such as this guy, were far more concerned about political rights than raising their children into adulthood.

Then, other parents, fight tooth and nail against healthcare professionals and school employees for insisting on a mask mandate. Again, political rants about freedom are far more important than minimizing their children’s exposure to COVID.

At the same time, I question why, when they succumb to the virus, do these same people then go to the hospital? After all, if they didn’t trust medical professionals enough to wear a mask or get vaccinated, why bother after the fact? Do healthcare workers appear more trustworthy during the fever dream of infection? Is suddenly trusting healthcare professionals a symptom of COVID among anti-vaxxers/-maskers?

As talk of herd immunity and booster shots swirl, medical innovators continue to experiment with different preventative delivery systems. I continue to be optimistic about different breakthroughs such as an inhaler, which coats the lungs with an anti-viral treatment. I’m hoping that those who fear that the vaccination shot includes a microchip, will be the first in line for the inhaler. Until misinformation sets in.

Speaking of which, another grizzly biography I heard just today involved a man who killed his two young children because they had “lizard DNA.” Some newfangled QAnon thing, which I don’t think is even directly related to COVID, but these are such desperate times, I wonder if, in general, people with borderline mental health issues have been pushed over the edge.

Another innovation I hope manifests will be different avenues for coping with extreme stress.

The Happiest Hour

Double vaxxed and ready to chillax…with a couple of friends who also believe in science, drinking and lively conversation.

Double vaxxed and ready to chillax…with a couple of friends who also believe in science, drinking and lively conversation. Although we were all board members of a nonprofit organization, no business (OK, not a lot of business) was discussed. We were so giddy just to see one another in real life rather than on our monthly Zoom board meetings.

Apparently, I was the most anxious to get out of the house since I arrived first with a bottle of my favorite spicy red wine, Cabernero. I was tempted to bring my silver chalice, I left it at home. I poured the hostess a taste, saying she could have more if she liked it. She loved it…as did all the other board members who arrived in time before we finished the bottle.

Although everyone had received her double vaccination doses, our host, in an abundance of caution, set up our happy hour in her backyard patio. As beautiful as the evening was, I knew winged spoilers would be out and biting. I’d slathered Skin So Soft all over my arms, legs, neck, chest…pretty much any exposed area except my face. There was no way I was going to wear long sleeves on such a warm night. Besides, I didn’t want to skip the joy of dressing up for a change.

I’ve always been a dog person even though I’ve not lived with one since childhood. Rosie, a beautiful chocolate poodle mix, was a welcomed surprise at happy hour. I met her when I arrived and she was let loose toward the end of our visit. I completely understand how some people derived comfort from adopting a fur baby. Unfortunately, others are returning their fur babies now that the pandemic is nearly over as if they were nothing but pandemic pets.

At one point, someone asked the group what the pandemic had taught us about ourselves. Everyone attempted a positive answer. One woman said she valued having her parents nearby, so they could help with childcare. I talked about how daily yoga, red wine, illustrating and my weekly baked quiche brought me joy. The woman who posed the question answered last. “I learned I have gray pussy hair.”

I only understood what she’d said the third time she said it. The first two times, I heard, “I learned I have great pussy hair.” Since the pandemic, she’d no longer felt the need to wax/shave/laser–not sure what her hair removal method was. Yet, from what I thought I heard, reminded me of a little gem I’d written years ago, “Pubic Hair Cornrows.” I either texted or emailed everyone at Happy Hour the link. The gist is that fashion trends, including bodyscaping, tends to ebb and flow.

The happy hour officially ended when the drizzle began. Even though the rain never came, this is the land of flash floods, better to drive home safely while we could. We hadn’t survived a plague just to die in a flood.

Navigating through the Employment Jungle

Years ago, I declared being over updating my resume and all other such hoop jumping, which is why last week saw me doing that and so much more in search of gainful employment. With the new reality of near post-COVID-19, applying for a job means not only looking at online job listings, but maneuvering through their application process with the added hoop of taking their online assessment.

The nerd in me likes quizzes, especially the ones which challenge basic algebra/logic skills, along with reading comprehension, vocabulary, and how to answer customer concerns, but it was too much of a good thing in a short space of time. Also it didn’t help that I always chose to take the assessments in the evening, usually following the tedious application process.

If one successfully jumped through the application and assessment hoops, then comes the interview. For the first time ever, I had a Zoom call interview, along with a mock customer service interview where I read from a script, and finally two telephone interviews. Every interview option except for in-person. Most of the jobs were remote, the consequence of surviving a pandemic. Workplaces are no longer office-bound.

For shit and giggles, I jumped through the hoops for a “free” computer training class. Apparently, my pandemic-induced underemployment qualified me to apply. The application process for this class was far beyond any job application. I don’t know how a person with any physical/mental/housing/food/literacy/mathematical/logical/internet challenges could possibly fill out all the digital pages, upload the attachments, calculate their monthly budget and blah, blah, blah. The most vulnerable population have the largest bureaucratic hurdles to prove their needs.

Originally my commission statements weren’t acceptable because they needed pay stubs. Once I pointed out that I was a 1099 employee, they accepted the commission statements. Magic!

What turned out to be psychologically worst was the “letter of justification.” In other words, why should taxpayer money pay for me to take the class. I wrote the most awful essay I’ve ever written in my adult life. Of course everything was spelled and punctuated correctly. Beyond that, the essay did the bare minimum of answering the questions, some of which required me to look up three job titles and their associated entry level salary, along with three companies I could apply to. I agonized though that hoop as if it were a Herculean task.

After attaching all the digital documents to an email, I took the three-part assessment, which I thought was saving the best for last. I whipped through the vocabulary part. The reading comprehension section absolutely annoyed the hell out of me. As much as I love to read, those passages along with their vapid questions drained my soul. At least the assessment ended with math. By that time, my head hurt and my stomach growled, which dampened the joy of doing math.

After laboring through that assessment, I persuaded my roommate to make a food and booze run. It was nearly 10 PM. I sat there watching TV and illustrating on my iPad, feeling that both hemispheres of my brain had drifted very far apart.

No matter what, I’m not applying to shit for while. My last interview on the following Thursday will be the last interview for awhile. Seems unrealistic to say it’ll be the last one I’ll ever have in life, but one can dream.

Second Time Around

I canceled the appointment for my second COVID-19 vaccination with Austin Public Health (APH). Not because of any hesitancy. I just didn’t want to lose any math tutoring money. After all, I only had 12 days of that gig. Besides, APH had scheduled the appointment for the middle of the week. I’d heard many reports of the effects of the second shot being worse than the first. So, the worst-case scenario would be missing part of my tutoring day and feeling ill during the next two days of tutoring.

Fortunately, I had Cinco de Mayo and the next day off. I prayed for APH to reschedule the appointment then. After canceling that appointment, I wanted to set up an alternative, but after reading the fine print, I discovered that anyone who was more than 28 days beyond their first vaccination, could just walk up to any APH site without an appointment.

It just so happened the following week APH announced people could walk in between 2-8 PM, Monday through Friday to get their second shot. So, I “celebrated” Cinco de Mayo 2021 by going to a job interview, then getting vaccinated.

And for once, the rumors were true: there was no waiting. Despite the holiday, there weren’t any tequila-based shots. As a matter of fact, the longest wait was when the dude typed in my information. After that, the woman administered the shot and I was off to wait for a few minutes in the library.

Very strange to be in a library, but not to browse or pick up a book. Instead, I kept my hands to myself and read articles on my phone until the requisite time passed. I didn’t experience any tingling feet nor low grade fever like the first time. Plus, I didn’t have to walk down a flight of stairs like I did the first time around. Bonus!

My roommate drove–just like after the first vaccination–but honestly, her driving scared me more than any vaccine reaction. She’s not a bad driver. I’m just used to my own driving…and breaking a little sooner than she does.

She drove us to Office Max to get our vaccination cards laminated. Another free perk. Since we were next door to a pharmacy, I bought myself a treat. Other people in different states received all types of perks to motivate them to get vaccinated. I sprung for my own treat.

Normally, I wouldn’t eat dessert for dinner, but that was the day to do it!

Normally, I wouldn’t eat dessert for dinner, but that was the day to do it! Hard to say if the bad feeling afterwards was the dessert or the vaccine. Yet if I needed more evidence of being middle aged, it’s paying dearly for a sugar rush.

From here on out, as society continues to reopen, I’ll be sure to brace myself. Funny though, most of the jobs I’ve applied to so far have been remote. It’s as if once conditions forced us home, management saw that many of us actually didn’t have to report to an office.

One thing I see in the near future is investing in a new work computer. I’ve just about squeezed out all I’ve could from my old one. Going forward, I’ll have to invest into a new money-making machine. And a pair of glasses. That’s the infrastructure update I’m going to make in society 2.0.

Not Ready for the World

I’ve changed. More positive and sexy to say, “I’ve evolved.” Either way, I’m not quite ready to leave home, get out there, press palms, laugh out loud in a crowd of other people laughing out loud and swap germs like I used to do. Just seems more reckless than necessary. Especially when I’ve been underemployed for over a year. The best things in life may be free, but mingling still costs money.

I believe that as the world reopens fully, economic opportunities will as well. First I spoke that to the universe. Then I sent an email. To a tutoring entrepreneur, not the universe. In less than a week, I mad scrambled to onboard, filling out electronic documents and updating my technology to facilitate virtual tutoring.

As long as the TX electrical grid holds up, this will be a solid temporary full-time gig. By the time that gig ends, hopefully the other one I’ve been working on will be fully funded. In the meantime, I’ll work my long-time gig on the weekends. It’s been dying a slow death, but as long as I can make some money, it’s better than no money. Besides, I’m still able to read, write, and juggle creative projects while working customer service. Everything all from the convenience of home.

Who needs the outside world anyway? Far too many people who don’t believe in science or think this pandemic is a political hoax, which means they’re not taking basic precautions to protect themselves and others.

Better to remain sequestered while the world rages on. Even after getting my second shot, it won’t have the magical effect of remedying everything else that ails society.