Edward was throwing up in the night, and first of all I would like to say how lovely it is to be at the stage of life where that is something I generally find out about in the morning, rather than having to clean barf out of carpeting and out from between crib railings and out of a child’s hair at 2:00 in the morning. Barf laundry is some of the worst laundry.

But illness is still concerning. The symptoms don’t make me worry about Covid-19, but I do wonder how he would have caught ANY illness considering he’s been nowhere and seen no one. A quick look at my CONTACT CALENDAR tells me that our most recent contact was the guy who came to give an estimate on a replacement water heater; he was here for several minutes on Friday, but he wore a mask and Paul reported that the worker pointedly didn’t touch anything, waited for Paul to open the basement door and so forth. Paul went into his office the day before that, but saw almost no one, and everyone is wearing masks and trying to keep it at one person per room, and his office has one of those machines that atomizes (is that the science verb I want here?) disinfectant and sprays it nightly, after the cleaners go through and do the newly-intensive pandemic cleaning. And none of the rest of us have been sick, and we can’t think of anything Edward ate that none of the rest of us ate, so I feel like we’re gradually ruling out food poisoning and stomach viruses, or at least putting them lower on the suspicion list at this point.

Since the symptoms are digestive, and since so far only Edward has them, that makes me suspect something to do with his Crohn’s disease. I further suspect that this is because of relative inactivity: he used to walk to and from school each day, plus walk around the school building at points throughout the day, plus have gym class—and now he’s mostly in a nest on the couch with a book or his phone. He is the Indoors Type, and that is a fine and worthy type to be, we don’t all have to be hearty and outdoorsy and covered in ticks/sunburn—but physical activity seems particularly useful for digestive health, and so I think I am going to have to work harder to make sure he is doing more of it. He can do indoorsy versions, such as Dance Dance Revolution or whatever.

In the meantime, I am glad we keep cans of ginger ale and Coke on hand for just this sort of sudden issue (I’ve found the little bottles eventually lose fizz if they sit too long before being needed, but the cans don’t seem to), and that we have saltines and applesauce, and we have bread for toast. He is…well, he is in a nest on the couch, but when he feels a little better we will start wheeling him out into the sunshine, or whatever used to be done with Edwardian invalids. (That was an unintentional play on words with his name. I searched lightly online to see why I associate the Edwardian period with invalids being pale and covered in blankets and reading books on the couch and being wheeled into the sunshine, and I still don’t know. Perhaps it is just a time period when the word “invalid” was being used. Or perhaps there was a pandemic near that time that left many people chronically ill.)

The nature of this pandemic/virus means that many of the things we can do to reduce/slow its spread are things we do for the benefit of other people, and we have to hope that other people will also do those things for us. Mask-wearing is the clearest example of this: we wear masks to reduce the harm we might do to others, and we have to hope others will return the favor by wearing masks to reduce the harm they might do to us. If we are all willing to do something that benefits others, we all end up benefiting our own selves—a beautiful, almost fairy-tale example of the theoretical natural consequence of following the golden rule.

Other choices are less obvious than masks, but similarly expose people other than ourselves to more/less risk. It’s not possible to increase or decrease only our own risk: we are deciding for ourselves and also for everyone else we come into contact with: servers, clerks, stylists, caregivers, other customers/participants, friends, family, co-workers, healthcare workers, fellow patients, people we live with or visit or take care of—and also all the people THOSE people come into contact with. And all of those people are making decisions for themselves that in turn affect us.

This is why, if you’re not already writing down where you go, and when (day and approximate time), and who you have contact with (servers, friends, family, etc.), I strongly recommend starting. It’s another thing we can do that benefits others and also ends up benefiting ourselves. If we ourselves get sick, we have a nice clear record for the contact tracer, so they can see who they need to get in touch with to let them know they’ve been exposed, which can be crucial and time-/life-saving information. If someone we know gets sick, or a place we visited is traced as the center of an outbreak, we have at least the start of the information we need to help us determine if we’re likely to have been exposed. If contract tracers turn out to be part of the sensible plans made by scientists and health professionals, but not by the U.S. government, then we are doing what we can to handle it ourselves. And we save ourselves the stressy and inaccurate scramble of trying to recreate our schedule after the fact, possibly while feeling sick.

Our kitchen sink faucet broke. Paul has gotten pretty handy since we moved to his dream house, and he has fixed a few smaller problems with that faucet, but he evaluated this issue as crossing over into Plumber Territory—especially combined with the smaller issues, some of which had called for repeated fixing. We were without hot water in the kitchen for a day and a half (Paul had to turn it off to keep it from trickling steadily out from under the sink, which seemed fair), leading me to first feel some despair about figuring out cooking/dishes, but then to consider what other people in other times/places would think of me complaining that in my kitchen I had only COLD clean/filtered/sanitized running water, and that to get hot water I would have to walk SEVERAL YARDS to the half-bath, or else heat some on my ELECTRIC STOVE. A childhood of reading early-settler literature has really paid off in terms of adulthood contentment/perspective.

The plumber came this afternoon and, after our experience with the water heater guy, I was pretty fretful about it beforehand. I have a partial box of disposable masks left over from my job as an in-home elder caregiver, so we put those out on the counter, and planned to ask the plumber to wear one if he arrived without one, but I was VERY STRESSED about that idea: it feels very, very hard to ask someone to wear a mask when they’ve clearly made a deliberate decision NOT to wear one despite ALL recommendations. I wished that Paul had remembered to specify when he made the appointment that we had an immunosuppressed person in our household and could the plumber please wear a mask: that feels easier to do, because it’s ahead of time instead of on the spot. If some of the plumbers are It’s My Constitutional Right To Swing My Fists Wildly Without Regard For Your Face, then the plumbing company has advanced notice that they should send one of their OTHER plumbers.

But it was all moot because the plumber arrived wearing a mask, and kept distant, and everything was just fine. Except of course that I felt for awhile after he’d left as if the entire kitchen and all the air in the entire house was contaminated. But it’s fine! It’s fine! It’s statistically probably fine, despite that graphic showing how the virus moves in a restaurant on the air-conditioning breezes! And now we have hot water in the kitchen AND no water leaking onto the kitchen floor!

It’s going to seem as if I JUST went grocery shopping and now I’m already reporting in again—but last time, I wrote about it several days after a trip, whereas this time I am writing about it on the same day. Not that you are standing there tapping your foot waiting for an explanation before you enter it into the Justification Log. But just if that sort of thing is ALSO as interesting to you as it is to me. (“LAST time I went ELEVEN days between trips but THIS time it was EIGHT days because LAST time I only filled ONE cart whereas THIS….”)

Today marked an important milestone: the very first sighting of hand sanitizer since This All Began. It was sold in what looked like disposable water bottles, and it was an unfamiliar brand, and it was limited to one per customer, and I absolutely bought one. And it is only at this moment I realize I didn’t even notice/check the price. Just snapped it right up.

Another change: the store had signs up saying that, per city ordinance, face coverings were required for everyone entering the store. This made me so happy. There were still plenty of people with their noses hanging out, and plenty of people pulling the mask down to talk, but still: an improvement. One woman in line was complaining LOUDLY about how RIDICULOUS it all was, but she was wearing a mask and she was complaining to a fellow customer rather than to the poor employees, so we will take it as a partial success.

However, as if to shift the scales back to a universal balance favoring unhappiness, there were THREE SEPARATE TIMES when a male customer stood or walked closer to me than would have been considered appropriate/considerate even if we were NOT in a pandemic. SIRS. GET YOURSELVES TOGETHER. OR I AM GOING TO START CASUALLY BAPPING A PADDLEBALL AT BALL-HEIGHT.

General inventory is definitely getting more normal. There were LOTS of kinds of soup—still not up to full variety/capacity, but so much better than when it was just some Healthy Choice 99% Fat-Free Cream of Onion. There were no restrictions on meats, and they had ground beef in the larger (like, 1.75-2.00 pound) packets again, instead of just 1.00-1.25 pound. They had a LOT of flour, though still very little flour VARIETY (two brands of white), and still a limit of two per customer; sugar products seemed to be stocked normally but were also limited to two per customer. They had the little three-individual-servings strips of yeast, one strip per customer; no jars of yeast; plenty of baking powder and baking soda. Still no crunchy taco shells, but plenty of soft tortillas. Chicken nuggets still plentiful in quantity but extremely limited in variety. Frozen fruit was a lot better than the last few trips, but vegetarian meat substitutes (the fake chicken nuggets, fake chicken patties, etc.) were low—or rather, the case was stuffed full, but almost entirely with fake burgers. They had hand soap, not at all up to usual quantities/selection but pretty okay; they had rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. Still no Lysol spray or sanitizing wipes.

When I was in the check-out line, I realized the toilet paper I’d added to the cart was gone. When I was relating this story to Paul, he immediately suspected Cart Bandits but, first of all, there was plenty of toilet paper in the paper products aisle, so no one would have any motivation to steal mine; and also, the thing is, when I was at the store several trips ago, I put a pack of paper towels on the bottom shelf of the cart, and it fell off in the produce section, and I don’t know how I didn’t notice it falling off (wouldn’t the cart have run into it?) but I DIDN’T notice until I looped BACK to a previous aisle, saw some paper towels on the floor, thought “Huh, why are there paper towels on the floor?,” and then noticed MY paper towels (the same kind as the ones on the floor) were mysteriously GONE. So I think the same thing must have happened this time, but without me looping back around to discover it. And when it was the paper towels, it happened in the produce section, which makes it a little less mysterious: the produce section is BUSY and FRAUGHT and there are NO ONE-WAY MARKERS, and there are people TOUCHING EVERY SINGLE LEMON and so on. So that may explain the distractedness. I’ll bet it happened again today.

Anyway, I noticed the missing toilet paper very early on in the cart-unloading process, because I also had a big heavy thing on the bottom shelf, and wanted to unload that onto the belt early on, and so that’s when I thought “Hey, but where is…?” So I had the rest of the unloading time to fret and stress about what I was going to do. First I decided I would just skip it. Then I felt very sad and stressy about that, and about going at least another week before having another chance to buy more. Then I looked around to see if by any chance there was a toilet paper display nearby: there WAS one of paper towels, so this was not an unreasonable thing to wonder. But while I was looking around, I noticed I was not at all far from the toilet paper aisle. So I said to the clerk, not knowing how well she could hear me through the mask, “I forgot toilet paper, I am going to ZOOM OVER and get some, I will be RIGHT BACK,” and I zoomed, and I was back WELL before she’d finished unloading the belt, so I consider that a 100% victory, and I felt so relieved to have the toilet paper. For the rest of our lives, I think some of us will feel relieved every time we purchase toilet paper.

As this country continues to re-open during a pandemic despite not having taken any of the steps necessary for safely doing so, I am noticing huge confusion between “permitted” and “safe.” It’s understandable. It’s what we’re used to, to a certain extent: unsafe things are illegal or regulated. We have speed limits, licenses, seatbelt requirements; we’re not allowed to drive in certain reckless ways. We’re not allowed to buy cocaine. Smoking and drinking are allowed only after a certain age, and even after that age there are rules about when and where we’re allowed to do them, and what we are and aren’t allowed to do at the same time. We have to get official permits for certain activities such as lighting fires or doing construction.

And in countries where the officials care about the health and safety of their citizens as well as about the economy and profit, we are seeing a certain correlation between permitted and safe: the officials listen to scientists and medical experts, take steps needed to fight against the pandemic; and then, as those steps take effect, they carefully and slowly and advisedly re-open: the people are kept as safe as possible, the economy is preserved as much as possible. The United States, which has a current administration that ignores scientists, ignores medical experts, and thinks that bluster is the same as actually knowing what it’s doing, seems to think they can follow the same pattern of closing/re-opening WITHOUT doing all the things necessary to deal with the little issue of the disease. And so, since we have been very good and have stayed in our rooms for the entire time-out, it MUST be time for us to come out again, just like those other countries!

Some people have no choice. The companies they work for are re-opening, and if they don’t go back to work, they can’t pay their bills or buy food. I’m not talking about those situations. Those deserve our pity.

I am not talking about outings to acquire necessary items: food, prescriptions, urgent medical care. Those are not safe, but there is not much choice there, either: our country is not doing what it needs to do to make it safe, so we must do certain necessary activities unsafely. Other countries pity us.

I am not talking about the protests. Some things are morally necessary even when they are unsafe.

I am talking about things we don’t need to do, but that, because they are gradually permitted again, or because the words “socially distanced!” are used, are being mistaken for safe. Or restrictions, such as “No more than 10 people in a gathering,” making people think 9 or fewer must therefore be safe. It is making my throat tight to think of all the people who think that because something is allowed, it must be okay. We are going to lose so many more people we didn’t need to lose.

[Edited to add: The comments section is showing me I need to make a further clarification. I am not talking about people who CHOOSE to do unsafe things, knowing those things are unsafe. I am talking about people who are starting to do things because they THINK THOSE THINGS ARE NOW SAFE, because those things are once again permitted—when in fact those things are not safe.]

Our water heater broke, and someone came out to fix it, and he was not wearing a mask, and he shook Paul’s hand, and he stood at a normal distance to talk, and it was like having a visitor from another dimension. I’ve marked it on the calendar.

It was especially odd because it seems like all the service ads on the radio are hurrying to reassure us that they are taking ALL necessary Covid-19 precautions. One ad for a charity mentions that if you want to put your donation items on your lawn, they will pick them up and they “won’t even come to your door.” A kitchen design company mentions that the consultations can take place over video call. A plumbing company says not to worry: their plumbers wear masks, use hand sanitizer before entering your home, and will fully disinfect their work area before leaving—and you can pay over the phone. And then Mr. Water Heater Repairman just goes from house to house as if nothing special is happening. My good sir have you managed to catch the news lately by any chance.

I am pleased to hear that I am not the only one who does not get sick of grocery store reports. And Paul has gotten noticeably less interested as the weeks go by: at first he was very nearly as interested in listening as I was in reporting, and would come eagerly to hear of triumphs and failures; after my most recent trip, he came to the kitchen only when I’d already put half of the things away, and then after a few minutes actually CHANGED THE SUBJECT. So perhaps this can be our place to discuss it with others who share the interest.

There was no line to get into the grocery store; this is the second time in a row with no line. I don’t know if I happened to pick good times to go or if they’ve increased the number of people allowed in the store. The meat supplies were still somewhat lower than usual, but all the signs limiting two packages per customer were gone. I still only bought two packs. I had this same problem last time with toilet paper: it was no longer limited to one package, but I still FELT as if I could only buy one, or as if maybe I was missing a posted sign the way I once missed a one-way floor sign, and would be embarrassingly rebuked at the register.

There were TWO kinds of white flour AND one kind of whole-wheat flour! I haven’t seen whole-wheat flour since this began! Still a limit of two flours per customer. Sugar was limited to two per customer again, after not being limited on my previous trip. Chicken nugget variety continued to be very reduced, but they still had the dinos.

Frozen fruit was the lowest I’ve ever seen it, though they had a good supply of the much more expensive kinds, which was soothing even though I didn’t buy any (“I MAY have frozen strawberries, I am just CHOOSING not to pay so much for them”). They had Ramen soup, the kind where it’s 12 packs of noodle bricks for $2.50! I got a pack of those right before lockdown and hadn’t seen them since! And they had store-brand grated parmesan again, and still had tons of pasta options. No brown rice, but plenty of white. Only canned pizza sauce, nothing in jars; this is starting to seem like it must be on purpose. But pasta sauce is still available in jars, so perhaps not.

There was one single bottle of Clorox Clean-up, the spray cleaner with bleach I like to use in the kitchen after doing anything with raw meat, and I examined it all over wondering what was wrong with it that it had been passed over, and could find nothing wrong at all, but continued eyeing it suspiciously as it rode in the cart. My old bottle was on its very last weak half-spritzes, so this felt providential.

I did not notice ANYONE not wearing a mask. But there were still several Older Men wandering around with their hands in their pockets, blocking the aisles while their wives did the shopping. One gentleman stood just sort of admiring the salsas, and he stood there so long (even with me standing right there, getting increasingly obvious in my body/cart language), I gave up and looped around to the next aisle. You know, if our husbands need fresh air and exercise, perhaps they could be put out into the yard instead of taken along to the grocery store where they get in the way.

Henry’s orthodontist office called and made him an appointment for next week. He hasn’t been in months: he had an appointment in mid January, and then his next appointment was supposed to be at the end of March, but that was canceled. I am a little skittish about this, but I am also skittish about having something go wrong with his braces/teeth, so he’s going. It sounds like they have things pretty well set up, with a one-way path through the office, and patients waiting in their cars until the office calls, and parents not going in, and no toothbrushing station, and all staff wearing face shields, and a hand-washing/sanitizing station they make the patients use on their way out.

I got the calendar down to look up when his last appointment was, and it was odd to see how different it looked. Coffee with a friend! Many, many orthodontist/dentist/doctor/allergy/eye appointments! Elizabeth was canvassing—remember when the election was the main thing in the news? Kid extracurriculars, kid friend get-togethers, housecleaners, shopping trips with my mom. An art show, with CROWDS. A Galentine’s Day party with friends! who came to my house! and we ate out of communal dishes! and hugged hello and goodbye!