What Won't Go Away With A Vaccine

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Originally written 4-9-2020

Left the house. Went to Greek restaurant to pick up dinner. Long wait. Small space. Packed with strangers awkwardly shuffling around to keep a six foot distance from one another. Half of the people wearing masks. The staff yell at an old man leaning forward on the front counter to back up.

I’m tracking where I place my body. Avoiding contact with any surfaces. Moderating my breath.

Respiratory droplets.

Paul, don’t you dare lean on that wall. Breathe through your nose.

My left hand feels gross. I had to use it to open the door. I keep it out of use, tensed up - quarantined - at my side.

Finally, my food is ready.

They make me sign the goddamn receipt. How many other people have touched this pen today? I’m a righty. Now, both hands feel gross. I kick the door open and race my way home.

Home. Family glares at me like I brought in the plague. I hope I didn’t.

Wash hands. Wash phone. Wash phone case. Wash debit card. Throw out food packaging. Wash hands again

Times are strange.

I’ve always been a germaphobe. But this is something new.

A week before shit hit the fan in New York, a coworker of mine over-cleaned his household over the weekend and damaged his hand with chemicals in the process. I think we’re all damaged now.

The coronavirus may one day fade away, but I’m not sure that the anxiety ever will.