Pandemic, Lone Woman Edition: Our Cake Pop Moment

This week has been a helluva year.

My sister, Erin, flew out from Arizona less than two weeks ago.  It was a rather spontaneous trip, prompted by the need to accompany her mother-in-law back to New Jersey. Although we knew there were risks to flying because of the coronavirus, she strapped on her N95 mask, packed her handwipes and landed on our doorstep March 3. I had to work during the week but we managed to find time to relax, binge a Netflix series (I Am Not Okay With This: highly recommend) and laugh with the Captain every night on the couch.

Those were a few good days.

By Saturday, we understood what was coming. We already knew the virus was active in America but it was clear that it would quickly spread unabated, as our government had done nothing to prepare or protect us. We knew quarantine was an eventuality, so we started shopping. Erin ordered a case of 80 rolls of toilet paper delivered  to her house, along with tissues, paper towels and baby formula. My niece and her family live with Erin and her husband. There is a newborn in their house, and our early thinking was that the virus would act like influenza and place the very young and elderly at greatest risk, so Erin also managed to find Saniwipes online. I ordered peroxide wipes because they kill everything including norovirus, which felled my father-in-law last year. He has a compromised immune system so we were trying to keep him healthy. Did I mention my in-laws were scheduled to fly to Sarasota on the 9th?

On Monday, Four's school sent an email that they would close early Wednesday to discuss how to implement distance learning if it became necessary to close the school. We were officially fucked.

Every morning, Erin had been sanitizing all the surfaces in my home with Clorox wipes, and spraying the door handles and light switches with Lysol. She began disinfecting twice a day. 

After much deliberation about where my in-laws would be safest, we put them on a plane and sent them to Pappou's in Florida. We figured there was a good chance some of us here would become infected, seeing as how the Captain works in New York and Three and I work at a supermarket. In Sarasota there would be sunshine and open space and only three old people in an apartment. It seemed the better choice.

The next day, I drove Two to the same airport for his trip to Puerto Rico. There were no reported cases on the island, we have family there, and he would only be gone for five days. What could go wrong? That afternoon I made another run to Costco to buy large bags of frozen fish and chicken along with shelf stable fruit and canned goods. It was the last time I'd be able to get through the doors.

Wednesday arrived and all of America woke up in a panic. Erin started investigating flights home, worried she might be quarantined in New Jersey. I went to work at 8 AM and customers were already packing the aisles. By Thursday there was nothing left on the shelves. No meat, no dairy, no canned goods. Pharmacy and paper products were long gone. Cap had a retirement dinner that night for a colleague and he texted me from the train. "It's over," he said. "Today's the tipping point. The world's gone insane." Granted, he'd had a few drinks, but he wasn't wrong.

On Friday, my store ran out of produce. That was also the day Five had what we've come to call his "cake pop moment." When I told him Erin and I were going shopping-hoping to find a few more supplies-he asked if we were stopping at Starbucks.

"No, honey, " I said. "We can't eat food made outside our house anymore."

He just stared at me. "What?"

"We can't eat anything that we didn't prepare. Because of the virus."

"Wait. NO MORE CAKE POPS?"

He was depressed and cranky all day.

Saturday, Four's school alerted us they would be closed until further notice. I worked from 8:00 until 4:30, stocking our shelves with what remained in our cooler. People bought pounds and pounds of cheese and, inextricably, caramelized nuts. How are they a necessity? We sold a lot of Kerrygold because it was literally the only butter left in the store. The Captain and Erin got me at the end of my shift so I could drive to the airport with them.

I ignored the CDC directives and hugged and kissed my sister good-bye, unsure when I'd see her again.

Today my town closed our parks and playgrounds. We know they will shutter our downtown soon. I told my job that I would no longer be able to work day shifts because I need to teach Four. Three continues to go to work every day. There are no scheduled food deliveries yet. 

Two made it back from Puerto Rico, right as they instituted a curfew because of the escalating number of COVID-19 cases. Two is certain he was exposed.

I am worried for the health and well being of my friends and family. Businesses are going to close and people will be lose their jobs. Of the eleven people living in my house, I expect at least four of them to be unemployed by the end of next week.

This afternoon, Cap and I walked around Parks Lake. It felt good to be outside. We went home and finished cooking chili and rice, and after dinner we played Rummikub with the kids. It was nourishing.

Not as good as a cake pop, but close.