When we woke up yesterday morning, the sun was shining, but the thermometer told us it was only 4 degrees Celsius! So we donned an extra layer of clothing before driving to Peterborough again to begin another adventure.
We caught the trail in the south east corner of Jackson Park, from the parking lot off Fairburn St. at Parkhill Rd. I don’t recall ever being in this park during the whole time I lived in Peterborough. It’s beautiful!
We crossed Jackson Creek via the covered bridge, and then stopped to gather for a group photo, soliciting the help of a lovely young woman who was enjoying the morning with her little son and friends. Thank you!
Once through the park, the paved trail ended, but everything beyond that was smooth and packed either gravel or sand.
We rode through cool shadows beneath arches of trees, then emerged into the sunshine on bridges crossing rivers and creeks; through dense forests and past golden farm fields.
Beginning of another Trail
Some History of this beautiful Trestle Bridge.
More amazing scenery! Notice the very clear blue sky.
We had to take care to cross some, sometimes busy, roads but were thankful that there is a tunnel running below busy Hwy. 7 at Fowler’s Corners. These trails are all built on the old railway beds, and very well maintained.
After stopping for pictures many times, two and a half hours later we were gladly seated on an outdoor patio in Omemee, more than ready for lunch at Bill’s Pizza House. Some of us had Pizza; others had Fish and Chips. Both were excellent!
An hour later we were back on the trail leading us back to Peterborough. Clouds had rolled in and a bit of wind had picked up.
On our way back through Jackson Park, we stopped to take a look at the Flood Control Weir.
And we lingered a little longer in the park admiring the ducks and the views.
Jackson Park and Creek
By the time we pulled into the parking lot, it almost felt like time for dinner, but it was only 3:00 pm!
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Just when I was sinking into the depths of the doldrums, the second of the two e-bikes, mine, that we’d ordered in July, finally arrived on Wednesday!
Today, we got together with two other couples and went on a beautiful 30 km ride.
We met in East City, an area of Peterborough, and got onto the Rotary Green Trail and headed north toward Lakefield. The sky was still cloudy and the wind was a little chilly. I was wishing that I’d put a hoodie on beneath my jacket, but before long the sun broke through and the rest of the day was filled with blue sky and sunshine.
This trail is beautiful, especially this time of year with the colours of the trees starting to turn. The bright yellows of the golden rod and the red blossoms of the sumac shone vibrant in the sun.
Once out of the city, it meandered through arches of trees and then suddenly took us beside the Old River Road to show us the glorious sparkle of the Otonabee River.
We rode along the road, past the campus of Trent University, before picking up the trail again. We made a stop at the wooden bridge that spans a little pond where Canada Geese swam, taking some pictures, before winding our way through the streets of Lakefield until we reached our destination – Shakers Diner.
We were more than ready for the big mugs of coffee and platters of home cooked breakfasts or sandwiches with fries.
I knew I was out of shape because my legs felt like rubber. If anyone thinks that you don’t pedal with an e-bike, give one a try! After lunch I was ready for a nap, but once we got going again my energy returned.
On our way back, Jim led us on a different path, through the University Campus. and gave the others some bits of history about the land where it had been built. He grew up in the area called Nassau.
We crossed back over the trestle bridge that spans the Canal and were soon back at our cars, tired but happy.
I expect to sleep well tonight! I’m looking forward to getting some more rides in before the winter weather hits.
Thanks to Julie and Jim for contributing some of the photos.
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My friend Carol has just recently joined Facebook and has been discovering all kinds of things about people and places we knew when we both grew up in Brockville. She introduced me to the sites, and they have brought a lot of memories and filled in some information that I’d forgotten.
When Carol posted the question, “Who worked at Woolworths in Brockville,” I could answer “yes” but I’d worked there only for a couple of days. I still don’t know why, but now I have some names to put into my story.
When I turned sixteen my mother thought it was time for me to find a summer job, although I don’t recall her ever mentioning it to me. She just came home from shopping one day and told me that I was to go the next day to see Mrs. Shipman at the Snack Bar in Woolworths. She’d asked her to give me a job!
Now, contrary to what a lot of people thought about me, I was really very shy. But if I was told to do something, I’d do my best. So I went to see Mrs. Shipman. I filled out some forms and I showed up for work on the day she told me.
I remember only a few details about the job. The first day I spent my entire shift in the upstairs kitchen, putting together ice cream sandwiches. At the end of the day, I was given a uniform and told me to go back the next day. I took the uniform home with me, because I thought that was what I was supposed to do. I’d wear it back for my next shift. She’d given me no instructions and I was too shy to ask. Later my mother got a phone call telling her that I wasn’t supposed to take it home and to make sure I took it back.
The next day I was behind the counter. I was taught how to take orders and put together lunches. I was taught how to make banana splits, and I was given a tip jar. I got to know Gloria Byrd, who helped guide me through the day. She went to my high school and lived not far from me. I don’t recall being too busy, until the lunch crowd started coming in and a whole family sat down and ordered six banana splits. I had to make them! Maybe Gloria helped me.
At the end of my shift, Mrs. Shipman gave me my tips and said she’d call me when she wanted me to come in again. I left my uniform there. I think the only call I got was to tell me to pick up my pay cheque.
For years I wondered why I never got called back, but now reminiscing, I imagine it’s because I wasn’t outgoing enough for such a job. Too bad. I think had I’d been given a chance I might have learned how to relate better and stepped out of my shell sooner.
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I recall the day when I first left our new baby with my husband for an hour while I went to an appointment. When I got home, he was finishing up cleaning the bathtub, a distasteful frown on his face.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I had to give her a bath,” he said. “She made a big mess in her diaper, so I put her into the tub to shower her off before touching the mess.”
At the time, my reaction was, “Gross!”
In retrospect, it seems the most logical thing to do. It would have been better if the “showering off” could have been done over the toilet, but in the long run it saved a whole mess of toilet paper, or wipes or whatever else he could have found to do the job.
While doing the grocery shopping yesterday, I reluctantly picked up a 12-pack of toilet paper costing $9.00, an on-sale bargain. I was reluctant because I’ve discovered a much more efficient and environmentally friendly alternative.
When we were in a department store in Arizona in March, stocking up on a few groceries for the motorhome, for our mad dash toward home before COVID-19 closed the border, I was struck by the winding line of people waiting to grab some of the precious packages of toilet paper that were supposedly being unloaded from a truck at the loading docks. There were people with walkers and scooters and quite possibly other health issues, mostly seniors, all crowded together and chatting while in line. Getting toilet paper was more important than social distancing to protect themselves from getting the virus! The wearing of masks was not yet advised in the US. I was glad that we still had a good supply of the commodity in the motorhome.
Soon after we got home, while surfing the net since there was nothing else for us to do – we were under quarantine for 14 days – I saw an ad for a portable bidet. I investigated further. I’d already thought about getting a bidet, but it wasn’t up to me to decide to install one in our bathroom, and I’d never really tried one to know how well it would work. This portable one seemed like a good chance to give it a try. I placed the order. By the time the money was exchanged from US to Canadian, and shipping was added it cost me as much as one that would attach to the toilet !Two months later it arrived, just as described in the ad. It had a rechargeable lithium battery pack with a USB plug, and a collapsible wand attached to a six-inch plastic tube that needed to be filled with tap water. I plugged it in and charged it up.
Bidet with wand down
Bidet with Wand at first angle
Bidet with wand straight out
The first time I tried it I wasn’t sure if I liked it. It did leave my bottom quite wet, and it seemed a little awkward to use. But I followed the advice in the instructions and hung a small wash cloth on a bar behind the toilet, to use for drying myself off. After a few tries I got the hang of it, and was amazed at the efficiency.
Since then, I’ve had to purchase only two package of toilet paper, in much smaller quantities than I’d been buying. My husband is still not eager to give the bidet a try, like anyone that I’ve told about it. “Gross” and a cringe is often the response.
Now, for me, the thought of using the alternative makes me cringe and say “gross!” I also feel good knowing that I’ve taken one more small step toward reducing the clear cutting of trees to produce toilet paper and the amount of waste that is flushed into our municipal water processing plants or septic tanks.
While we might think that being environmentally friendly is not worth the inconvenience we feel sometimes, it’s worth giving new ideas a try. You might just find that the benefits far outweigh the inconvenience.
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Writing anything has been a challenge for me lately, as have many things. I lack motivation. But I keep trying to set daily goals of some sort and push through.
When it comes to writing for this blog, I don’t know what I have that my readers would find interesting or helpful as they too take this journey. It’s been suggested that travel writing should be focused on local things of interest now, to entice visitors, but during this time, we’d rather not have too many visitors here in our small, virus-free community. Most of us feel a little panicky when we see out-of-towners congregating on our small beaches, or lined up at our ice-cream shop, without masks. There isn’t really much room for more than half a dozen people to observe social distancing.
So, what else can I do? This week, after a week of bouts of unspecific sadness, I’m determined to jump back into a few projects that I’ve been neglecting, two of them involving walking down memory lane.
I spent several hours over the weekend updating my Family Tree on Ancestery.ca and I found some interesting information that I knew nothing about before. I plan to post an article or two about that to my other blog site, Unfolding Our Past, one I started a few years ago, but then walked away from.
Another is work on my Memoirs, which I’ve been working on off and on for many years. If I’m ever going to get it done, now is the time. The years are slipping away too quickly.
Yesterday I decided to merge the several versions I have and try to get it together. When I found the very first draft, that I’d revised a little, I was encouraged by the positive feedback I’d received when I’d submitted it to an online writing community that I had joined probably fifteen years ago. I’m trying to remember the name of it. I wonder if it still exists? I wonder why I dropped out? No, I know why. I went back to work, and began to travel more, and my writing focus changed, to travel blogging!
Now that we aren’t traveling, and have no idea if/when we will again, it’s time to get back to it. It’s interesting that when I was reading through what I’ve written so far, I felt a bit of an epiphany, like I was looking at my story through different eyes. The stress, that I usually feel when remembering the pain, frustration and resulting depression during the bad times, lifted. I’m not sure where this will take me, but I’m hoping to completion, whether published or not.
There are a few chapters (or beginnings) included under the Memoirs/My Memoirs Tab on this website, if you’re interested. Feedback is always welcome!
And on days that I feel I have to get out of my head for a while, I still have that quilt that I’ve not yet finished!
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In the mornings of the two days that we went to see the eye doctor, I’d wakened up with a bit of a scratchy, sore throat and I was tired, so I wondered if I needed to postpone the appointments, but I was pretty sure that it was due to my allergies and extreme heat. By the time we had to leave for Peterborough, I was feeling just fine so I answered the questions at the doctor’s office honestly. But, by Thursday evening my throat was really sore and my ears were blocked. Again, under normal circumstances, I would have gone with the allergies diagnosis, but I began to worry about the slight chance that it could be COVID and I felt very concerned about having been to the Optometrist office the day before.
On Friday morning, after breakfast and allergy pills and using the netti pot, my throat was back to normal. In fact, I felt better than I had for weeks! Still I felt that I should go to the local clinic for a COVID test just to be sure. It was in the next town over from us. The info we found online wasn’t up-to-date so it took a couple of tries to find it, only to discover that it wasn’t open on Fridays! I’d have to wait until Monday, or drive further to find another clinic. It would have been nice to not worry over the weekend, but I knew I wouldn’t get the results before the next week anyway. So we kept pretty much to ourselves all weekend, going out only for an evening walk around our rural block. We don’t usually meet up with anyone we know to stop and chat. When we did see friends who were standing in line at the ice-cream shop, I kept my distance while they chatted. I’d forgotten to take a mask with me. That night my throat got really sore again. I was so disappointed.
The weather cooled down some. I slept better and regained my energy. I had no more sore throat after that. I kept doing the Self-Assessment on the phone App. I never did have any fever. By Monday I was confident that it wasn’t COVID, but I made appointments for both Jim and me to get tested anyway, to relieve everyone’s mind. We had to wait until Tuesday.
The Clinic visit was a horrible experience. I was called in first. Jim filled out the questionnaire while he waited in the car. I was expected to fill it out while also answering the verbal questions that were being fired at me from the technician! I have no idea if I filled in the written pages with all the correct answers! He finished his questions and then waited impatiently, holding a very long stick in his hand, for me to finish my form.
“Take off your mask. I’m going to put this way up your nose. Don’t cough and don’t pull away,” he said. And there it was, pushing further and further through my right nostril until tears rolled down my cheeks. I resisted the urge to pull back by holding my breath. Even after it was removed, the pain lingered. Outside, the slight breeze entering my nose increased the discomfort. I wish I had a picture of that!
“We’ll send you the results in two to three days, or you can go online to get them,” the other, female, worker said to me as she handed me a page of information. She was very pleasant.
Jim had his turn. He didn’t have to fill our questions at the same time as answering verbal questions, but he did have to endure the same pain. He was unable to resist pulling back and the fellow held his head!
I can’t imagine President Trump and his staff going through that every single day!
On Wednesday we drove to Cobourg to look at storage sheds for our new bikes, which should arrive within a month. On Thursday we went back to order one and all the materials needed to build the floor. I stayed in the car and Jim, of course, wore a mask and used hand sanitizer. We had no way of bringing it all home, but one of our neighbours offered to pick them up with a trailer when they will be going that way on Monday. We know what we’ll be doing next week to fill in some time! Assembling.
This morning, we went online to get our test results – NEGATIVE!
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Some days I feel like we’re just treading water, living on hold. I’d really like to get back to doing some sort of travelling. It’s still not safe to venture too far away from home, but there are things we could enjoy within our own province. Maybe we could possibly fly to BC to visit my family. But now that the airlines have decided to fill their planes again, I’m not comfortable with that.
Then my muse disappeared. With no travel, I had nothing more to write.
This week we had a few things on our calendar. Monday we were again hosting our weekly Ukulele Jam on our lawn. Well, we thought we were. We got all set up under the trees and waited. No one showed up! We did a bit of practicing ourselves and some of our neighbours came out to chat.
On Wednesday, we thought, Jim was to have a care conference by phone with his brother’s support nurse (Andrew) at the Long term Care Facility where he lives. It was supposed to be at 10:00 a.m. At 11:00, when Jim hadn’t heard from him yet, he called the home. They had to track Andrew down and would have him call back. We left here at 12:00 p.m. headed for our appointments with our Eye Doctor in Peterborough. We got about half way there when Jim’s phone rang. It was a call from the Nursing Home. The appointment with Andrew was scheduled for Thursday, not Wednesday!
We carried on to Peterborough. Because there were all new rules of conduct, due to COVID-19, timing was crucial, so we’d left home early enough to allow for the possibilities of road construction delays, as is the norm every summer. We arrived at the Clinic parking lot a half hour before my appointment, so we waited in the car, with the windows down, capturing any little breeze that drifted in. We were on a week of extremely hot and dry weather.
Five minutes before my appointed time, as instructed, I put on my facemask and entered the building. I rang the bell on the office door and waited for someone to come out. When she did, she looked at her clipboard and said, “Iris?”
“No, I’m Judy,” I replied.
She looked through her papers and said she’d be right back. When she came out again she told me that the mask I was wearing (which has a filtered vent on it) wasn’t allowed because it “let’s air out.” She said she’d have to check with the doctor, but she had been told no vents. I explained that there was a filter. She said she had one she could give me if they didn’t allow mine.
Vented Mask
I shrugged and said, “Okay.” She couldn’t see my smile behind my mask.
Another woman came along while I waited and she was asked questions and then ushered into the office. I wondered why, since I was there at exactly my time slot. I texted Jim to tell him that I’d be longer, and that he wouldn’t be able to use his vented mask either.
My turn came to answer all of the questions. I put on the mask that I was given and tucked my own into my pocket. After using hand sanitizer on the way through the door that was being held open for me (we were told not to touch anything, including the door knobs) I was instructed to sit in the rolling chair located near the station where eye glasses are checked. I’d just sat down when someone else rang the door buzzer. The young woman went to answer it and then came back saying, “I must have the wrong Judy.” She got the file and said to me, “You’re Judy Green, right?”
“No,” I said, “I’m Judy Lawless.” She looked perplexed. Apparently the woman at the door was also a Judy.
The technician heard the conversation and looked at the daily list of patients. “We don’t have a Judy Lawless on today’s list,” she said.
“What?” I asked. “I talked to someone on Monday, confirming my appointment, and she sent me the emails. Do you have Jim Victor on there?”
“No.” She checked the next day’s schedule. “Your appointments are for tomorrow. Dr. Shields isn’t even in today!”
I was stunned. “Okay,” I sighed and got up and headed toward the door. She ran past me and said, “Wait, I’ll open the door for you.” I waited, then dropped the mask into the waste basket that I noticed by the door as I headed out to tell Jim my saga. He checked his phone calendar and sure enough there sat the two appointments for the day, but they were both for Thursday! I don’t know why I had it in my head that they all were to be on Wednesday.
We were to meet a friend at Costco parking lot to pick up something from him. I texted and he asked if the original time would still work. I said sure. Jim had just asked if I thought we should buy the e-bikes that we’d looked at a couple of weeks ago. I’d given up on them because he didn’t seem that interested, so I was happy that he’d changed his mind. We stopped at the store and ordered them. They don’t come cheap, but I think when they arrive in August the weather will have cooled down enough for us to get out on our local trails at least.
When all was done and we were driving home, I replayed the appointment mix ups in my head, and realized that we both should have thought to check the eye appointments when we learned the conference call was not that day. And, I think I was a little rude with the women in the office. And I could have saved the mask for later use. I blame it on the lack of sleep and the high heat. My brain felt frazzled. I hope that’s all it was!
Fortunately, I was able to return the next day and apologize, and I was relieved to learn that my eye issues haven’t gotten any worse, and neither have Jim’s.
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I’ve been trying to write this post for two weeks now. Although we are still in the midst of the Pandemic, it pales in comparison to the new events in today’s world.
I didn’t know when I wrote my last post, about keeping my own morale up with painting, and trying sourdough baking, and playing ukulele, that the next day I’d be watching the horrific video of George Lloyd being held to the ground by a knee to his neck while he pleaded for his life and struggled to breathe.
The lingering sadness that I’d been feeling during the COVID-19 crisis suddenly meant nothing. My heart broke.
Now, several weeks later, I struggle with many emotions. At times tears still stop my voice from talking about it, and blur my eyes when I try to keep up with the news, trying to understand, looking for hope for a new world.
There just are no words. My mind races from one thing to another. I think of friends and relatives that I haven’t been in touch with for too long and friends that I lost touch with years ago. I think of my deceased parents and am thankful that they are not alive to see all that has changed the world so much in the last six months. Much of it they wouldn’t understand. It was not the way they were raised.
It’s strange how, no matter what I’m doing, little snippets of memories from my past, from my childhood to senior years, drift through my mind. Sometimes I wish there was more that I could remember, to connect the dots, to improve my understanding.
I sign petitions. I don’t know what else to do.
One ray of sunshine during the past few weeks was watching the little blue robin eggs hatch into little babies, and eventually seeing them leave the nest. All but one made it.
I miss looking out the window to see how they are doing.
Of course, I haven’t forgotten about the pandemic completely. Some days I’m comfortable going out to do the shopping and having some social distancing interaction with friends; other days I’m quite content to stay indoors baking or reading, with no desire to go even to a store to buy more groceries. Today has been one of those days. Tomorrow I’ll have to push myself out the door.
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Another month is quickly slipping by. It’s been a better month for sure. Mothers’ day brought great comfort, with phone calls or chats with all of my children, and gifts from my step-children left at the door, with a distancing visit.
The box of paints, brushes and a canvas were meant to prompt me to try something new. I took that challenge and found an online Paint Workshop that was suggested. I didn’t join it live because the time wasn’t convenient, but I did it on my own time the next day. It turned out that was good, because I struggled at first with mixing enough paint to do big sections, in different shades of blue, but I persevered. Unlike using watercolours (which I’d tried many years ago) my mistakes could be painted over and corrected. Well, most of them, until I ran out of the very important white paint required for mixing. Then I had to improvise. The two-hour class took me most of the day to finish this one painting. But, in the end I felt good to have completed it, and it didn’t look too bad for an amateur. I enjoyed the challenge and hope to get some more canvas to try another one, sometime.
Another gift was a jar of sourdough starter. It brought back memories of the delicious and light sourdough muffins that I used to make. The recipe made big batches and, because the starter had to be divided up with some to feed a new starter and the rest to be used in baking, once a week (actually it seems to me it was more often) my freezer was full of frozen muffins of a variety of flavours. My son told me years later how he used to often sneak down to the freezer to grab one or two and eat them frozen. I didn’t even notice the missing ones. I had to wait a week until it was time to feed the starter before I could use some of it, but I kept those muffins in mind.
I had several days when baking was my outlet, creating another (better) lemon meringue pie and chocolate/peanut butter squares one day.
Another day I recruited Jim to help me make a big batch of perogies, one of my favourite quick from the freezer meals, but that I’d never made myself before. They were a lot of work, and took a long time, but we worked well together.
When the day came to feed the sourdough I was having a major pain day, which usually causes some brain fade. That day was no exception. For one thing, the new way of measuring ingredients is by weight instead of volume. Fortunately we have a scale that we used for weighing packages when doing product shipping for our online businesses, but I had to learn the trick for adding multiply ingredients. Then I put the water in before the flour, which made mixing more difficult. I doubted that it was going to work, but the next day I saw that it had.
I made a batch of muffins, not the recipe I used to use. Seems I didn’t keep it, never expecting to be doing volume or sourdough baking again. They might have turned out good if I hadn’t been trying to do something else in the kitchen while they were baking. I somehow tuned out the sound of the timer and they got way over baked. Not burned, but rather dry. Disappointing.
Oh well, the sun came out the next day and the temperature climbed.
We had a few ukulele players over to our lawn to play some tunes one day, keeping our distance and staying no more than an hour. We limited the invitation to only five of us in total. It was a welcome change.
One Friday evening we ordered take out Fish and Chips from one of our local restaurants, a restaurant that had been closed completely for two months and just recently started doing order-ahead take outs. We invited another couple who lives in the building to join us at the twelve-foot table in the Common Room, each of us with our own orders, using our own plates and utensils, sitting at opposite ends of the table. It was nice to chat and get caught up, something we hadn’t been able to do since we’d been gone for six months.
I bought vegetable seeds and planted one of the three planter boxes that our Condo Board acquired so we could have a little community garden.
I’ve gotten used to grocery shopping. It seems to be the new normal for me now. More people are wearing masks, and so far there has been no news of CORONA-19 outbreaks in our small tri-town community. I have to admit that that might not necessarily be a good thing, only because it becomes too easy to forget that we still have to be diligent with our social distancing and mask wearing. I was shocked when, one day after I was introduced to the woman who agreed to rent us parking space for the motorhome, without thinking I reached out to shake her hand — and she reciprocated! That weighed on my mind for a long time. I sanitized my hands as soon as I got back into the car; I hoped that she did too. I didn’t sleep well that night, after that incident and after hearing the latest COVID case statistics. The curve was rising, or at least no longer falling in many places in Canada and around the world. I had another major pain day.
We sat in our car by a nearby beach and watched and listened to the peacefulness.
This morning I woke up feeling optimistic and planning things I wanted to accomplish. It was to be another sunny day. But the first thing I saw when I opened my iPad was a message from someone who cares, warning me that “take out” food is dangerous unless we’d cooked it again at home for ten minutes at at least 80 degrees. He’d seen Jim’s Facebook post about our sharing with neighbours. Then I opened a news app and saw huge crowds of people on beaches enjoying Memorial Day in the US, and I thought “they are never going to get out of this virus if they continue like this.” When I opened an app with Canadian news I saw the same thing happening in a park in Toronto! There goes my optimism and respect for my fellow human beings.
At least the sun is still shining, today.
And the flowers are blooming in the beds.
And a mother robin has decided to build her nest in a corner of the building, on the ledge of our bedroom window! How beautiful is that?
PLEASE STAY SAFE! AND KEEP YOUR LOVED ONES SAFE TOO!
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The weather has been crazy; spring can’t decide if it’s going to stay or not. It’s as confused as we are.
Snow on the deck, May 8, 2020
I’ve been having trouble working through this lately. Maybe because I haven’t set any goals to complete projects, but that’s because the projects I have now are my own and they don’t have any urgency. There is always tomorrow, right? The calendar is blank. I’ve heard others make the same observation.
Each day I wake up feeling a lingering sadness, even if I have something in mind that I might do that day. Today, I realized that, after nearly three months of avoiding close contact with people, then avoiding them altogether during self-quarantining on our way home from Arizona, and then continuing upon our return, and then becoming so conscious of the danger of not constantly washing my hands, or sanitizing them when out (wearing my mask) to do grocery shopping, this has become the new normal. As much as I long to sit down at a table with friends and family, to return to playing pickleball and ukulele in a group, I have trouble imagining being able to do those things again, without fear.
I’m one of the fortunate ones. I get to stay home where it’s safe. I don’t need to worry about losing my job or not being able to pay my bills if I don’t want to go to work in one of the dangerous environment out there, without adequate protection. I don’t need to feel obligated to risk my life to help save the lives of those who have been hit with the virus, although I shed many tears for those who are brave enough to do it.
And I do feel guilty about being so privileged. This is my new normal. Who knows if it will ever change?
Thank goodness for all the beautiful, and funny, video clips that are shared through the internet! They help to lift my spirits.
I’d love to hear from people around the world. How are you working through COVID-19?
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