Dan and I are trying to figure out what our 36-year marriage looks like in COVID isolation. We've agreed to separate bed/bath areas.
"I slept so hard!" I sang out, well-rested when I finally awoke at 9 after my first night in the basement.
"Me too!" he said, happy as the morning lark.
Who knew sleeping alone could be so pleasant?
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Our only shared indoor space is the kitchen, and we are not in this area at the same time. We've agreed to wash our hands before we touch anything and again after we've touched everything (the refrigerator, the cupboards, the coffee pot).
"Don't touch your face when you're in the kitchen!" I scolded Dan as (from a room away) I watched him prepare an after-supper bowl of Peanut M&Ms.
"I'm not!" he said, as he ate another.
"You're putting them in your mouth! That's touching your face!"
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Twice today we met outside, once on the deck, once on the porch, for distanced conversation time. Dan's work as a farmer is by its nature quite isolated. But being TOLD to isolate makes him antsy. He's thinking of all the things he CAN'T do.
This reminds me of Carl Sandburg:
"Why did the children
put beans in their ears
when the one thing we told the children
they must not do
was put beans in their ears?"
Nothing is as tempting as the thing we are told not to do.
This evening, with the entire upstairs level of the house available to him, Dan came downstairs to change a water filter. I don't think this counts as essential. Then he sat on the couch (across the room) and mused about how if he doesn't show symptoms tomorrow (day five), he probably doesn't have the virus.
It's strange how awareness of space can feel so lonely.
Keeping Dan isolated for two weeks is my new full-time job.
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This afternoon I called my parents to check in. My dad gave a happy report. I told him I will practice Bridge online so as not to get rusty while he's away.
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| T-Bone Trail, Exira, Iowa June 28, 2020 |
When I talked to my mom, I told her about my morning run on the T-Bone Trail. The heavy-hanging mulberries are now falling off, purpling the asphalt. The plum blossoms are gone, and in their place are small green nuggets of plums.
The wild raspberry bushes are coming into fruition. When I saw them on the trail this morning, my first thought was "I'll gather some for Mom on my way back! She'll like that!"
A few steps later I remembered she's in Newton.
Enough.
Be well.
Write.
Allison
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