Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 6

Public opinion is starting to sway toward reopening. That's not to say we're ready by any means; the United States is collectively fatigued after 10 weeks at home. The threat of COVID-19 hasn't gone away --I'm going to keep repeating that-- and states that have reopened have all seen spikes in cases and deaths. People are fighting on social media and in real life over wearing masks. These bold and brazen folks are calling us fraidy-cats. We're only thinking about ourselves, not others, and especially not the immuno-compromised. Illinois still has stay in place, but the governor is buckling.

Admittedly, I'm getting rather bold myself. At first, I was limiting driving for Lyft and Postmates to two, maybe three nights a week. With my unemployment benefits lapsing in two weeks, I'm hesitant to keep dipping into rainy day money. I'm waking up a little earlier, trying to get more stuff done around the apartment in daylight, then go out driving just in time for rush hour. Unless businesses completely reopen (that is to say, are safe to reopen) this is pretty much my life for the next three months.

My latest concern is whether I can afford to stay in my apartment. I'm 6 1/2 months into a one-year lease. Unemployment benefits from the state would help somewhat, but I don't want to face that ordeal again. My roommate is a furloughed cook; he leaves the apartment maybe once a week, and he's practically paying rent as a loan shark. (More on that later.) My sister's best friend and tenant is mostly back at her parents' house; her father died suddenly in early May, and her mother is immuno-compromised. Whether she stays at my sister's house remains to be seen. I still drive out once a week to pick up mail, see the dogs, and soldier on with our never-ending cleaning project. I feel guilty, as if making the 40-minute drive is a wasteful luxury.

Next Week: my annual mindset list.

(649)