Don’t Touch
So what they tell us about the Coronavirus is to not touch our nose. Not touch our lips. Not touch our eyes. Don’t touch your face. This is especially true when traveling in a New York City subway, which I haven’t been on for weeks. Imagine all the hands that have touched the rail that you’re holding on to. Maybe their palms were a little sweaty. Maybe they had early COVID-19. Then you touch the same rail next touching your nose or touching your lips or touching your eyes. You get the picture.
Cooped Up
Today, day 16 I haven’t been outside since Day 5 of this journal. 11 days without going outside. The closest to the outdoors I’ve gotten is going downstairs to our apartment’s entry area where are PO Box is and where delivery people leave our packages. It used to be they would come to your door. No longer. They leave your packages downstairs. Sometimes they don’t even do that and claim you weren’t home when they came by and you were at home actually. The guess is they didn’t even bother to come to the building at all. But they aren’t to be put down. Now they’re called our heroes.