Trying a schedule today, using information from Days 1-4
8:15 AM Drag self from bed, in shirt worn yesterday + pajama pants
8:20-11:00 AM Drink coffee and scroll Facebook mindlessly. Consider extensive cleaning and knitting projects that could be completed during this time, as well as individual sports that could be mastered and languages that could be learned. Order tethered “tennis trainer” advertised on Facebook. Turn off TV sound during press conferences and updates in ongoing attempt to learn American Sign Language by “full immersion” method before realizing the flaws in this approach – and also that you have now missed all of the important information in the press conferences and updates.
11:03 AM Ask loudly: “How is it eleven already??”
11:05 AM More coffee. Realize grimly that daily driveway happy hour that you invited everyone to yesterday on Facebook must remain less than ten people. Wonder if you have more or less than ten friends.
11:30 AM Snap at college student who asks sweetly if you can please make that avocado toast with basted eggs you so enthusiastically made on Day 1. Anxiously wonder if you are rationing food too much or not enough, and become panicked thinking of things you are running low on. Check for supplies online and, finding the Instacart delivery time to be unacceptable, close out, having done nothing to solve this problem.
12:00 Daydream about coming out of retirement of ICU nursing to care for COVID patients. Practice saying “Already done, Dr. Fauci” and consider who will play you, making this heroic and momentous decision, in the Lifetime movie about your life.
12:20 Wonder aloud if you brushed your teeth today.
1:00 – 2:30. Cough once. Take temperature (normal) and then a nap, because rest seems that it would be important in the initial stages of the virus. When you awake, take temperature again (still normal).
3:00 Set out to walk in driveway, with a commitment to keep looping for one hour. Quit after two laps. Return to couch.
4:00 Socially distant happy hour.
5:30 Cook dinner, sobbing quietly because you hate cooking so much and you are so, so sorry for taking the empty nest and eating out for granted. Promise aloud (between sobs) to never, ever do this again.
7:00 – 12:00 Binge watch TV with husband/coronavirus expert. Smile and nod pleasantly as he shares his newfound wealth of knowledge and suggestions to decrease transmission, while not reminding him that you were an actual ICU nurse for 30 years and will soon be working directly with Dr. Fauci. Sweetly respond that yes, maybe you will read that “great book he read about the 1918 Spanish flu”. Add wine as needed.