The Tiny Joys Of Quarantine

The coronavirus pandemic presents two choices: Mourn what you don’t have or count your many blessings

This pandemic has broken me. Before the coronavirus forced me to self-quarantine I was a big picture man but now all I care about are the little things. I have never been a “stop and smell the roses” type of dude but I went on a walk around my deserted New York City neighborhood this morning and almost cried when I saw flower buds on trees.

In the span of a little over a week I have gone from doomsday prepper to a poet who sees beauty everywhere.

Since I’ve started practicing social-distancing — the infection control strategy where people deliberately isolate themselves from others in order to slow the spread of a contagious disease — I have become ridiculously sentimental. I want to write long, sad lists of things I already miss, like bookstores and movie theater popcorn and hugging old friends.

But for the sake of my mental health, I can’t spend all my time sobbing like a tragic hero. I have very little control over my life but I can choose to celebrate what I have instead of mourning what I feel I’ve lost.

I am not in denial about the very real challenges society is facing. I’m still scared but I’m learning how to deal with those feelings. One way that I’m able to find some serenity is to count my blessings, no matter how tiny.

Look, I’m just a guy who blogs but I do know a few things, like don’t forget to breathe. Deeply! Fill those toes with air! Drink water, stretch, unclench that buttmeat. And, most of all, relish the infinitesimal joys of right now. They will help you get through. They will help us get through.

So please indulge me as I list the little things that are making my days not just tolerable but almost exquisite. I don’t want to suggest that I’m enjoying my solitude — I just would prefer it if I didn’t get sick nor got anyone else sick, either. But I’m thankful for the following:

Tea Tree Oil-Infused Toothpicks

I haven’t had a cigarette in four years but the only way I was able to quit was by becoming horribly addicted to expensive nicotine gum. My doctor didn’t say long-term use of the gum was unhealthy but he definitely didn’t say chomping stimulants all day and all night was a healthy idea. A month ago I managed to quit the gum with the help of spicy tea tree oil-infused toothpicks. I am thankful to have these tasty wooden spears that I stress chew until they disintegrate.

Video Chat Reunions

I have never liked video conferences. You’d think after a lifetime was watching, and re-watching, Star Trek I’d want to live a life where I talk to people on screens but nope. This was, of course, until the quarantine. I am super happy to jump on work video calls. I am also thrilled to talk to anyone, frankly. I had a reunion with former coworkers of mine from a mattress company over Zoom, the popular video conferencing software. I’m going to play poker with some dudes I haven’t seen in a long time on Zoom soon.

The Electric Charisma Of Mary Berry

I was upset when legendary BBC food personality Mary Berry left The Great British Bake-Off, a soothing reality competition about hobbits baking nice cakes. I have, however, happily discovered her co-hosting a show called Britain’s Best Home Cook (which is streaming on Hulu.) It’s okay! Just a bunch of home cooks from the UK all competing to make roasts and pies and burgers. The only reason I’m watching is because of Mary Berry, who is a bloody perfect human being. She’s like what you’d get if you crossed Mary Poppins with the Queen. All I want to do is watch her take delicate nibbles from dumplings. During one episode, she licked a spoon. I get gooseflesh thinking about it.

My Compact Vacuum Cleaner

My small vacuum cleaner is heavy. But I have learned to treasure that weight as I drag it around my apartment while sucking up dust and lint with its long tube-like nose. My small vacuum cleaner is heavy and loud. It roars! My dog hates it. The sounds its engine makes is so deafening I can’t hear anything or anyone. I’m not even sure my small vacuum cleaner does a great job cleaning but it feels good to go through the motions.

Instant Coffee

I have a fancy French Press and plenty of coffee for rich, flavorful pots of quality Joe. But I also bought a jar of Folgers instant coffee because sometimes I need nuclear-hot caffeine liquid immediately. I don’t want to grind and steep and stir. I just want to chug energy. Instant coffee tastes like shit but it gets the job done, especially when you’re in a hurry. I have been kicking my mornings off with a swallow or two and I’ll be honest: it’s invigorating and disgusting. I grew up drinking instant coffee because my parents loved the stuff. Once upon a time, instant coffee was a marvel of modern food science. A freeze-dried powder that — presto! — transformed into freshly-brewed java. We were a Folgers family because Folgers has “flavor crystals.” What’s a “flavor crystal”? Shhhhh *stirs instant coffee into hot water* have a nice cup of coffee and don’t worry about it.

Dollar Store Candles That Smell Like Cupcakes

I found four squat candles that smell intensely of vanilla that I had forgotten I bought months ago at my local dollar store. I think when I shop there I sort of go into a trance and just buy things because they’re so cheap. Anyway, I think I consigned them to the back of a cupboard because they smelled too… chemical. Well, I’m wrong. They smell wonderful.

Warren Zevon’s ‘Excitable Boy’ Vinyl Record

I’ve been listening to records more — -you know, just listening to thirty or so uninterrupted minutes of music while laying on the floor. It’s been a real break not listening to pop song after pop song through my earbuds. In a way, embracing vinyl has re-taught me to slow down. I take for granted that pretty much any song I could ever want lives inside the pocket-sized supercomputer I still call a “phone.” But chilling out listening to a musical story over the course of four or five songs per side? Then flipping the record over and doing it again? It’s been really relaxing. I’ve listened to sardonic singer-songwriter Warren Zevon’s iconic ’70s album about murder, machine guns, and werewolves Excitable Boy at least three times this week.

My Mom On Video Phone

When Texas’ Republican lieutenant governor Dan Patrick went on Fox News that he and other senior citizens would be willing to die to protect the stock market my mom called me and immediately said, and I quote, “You first, Lt. Gov. Patrick.” My mother is a 76-year-old Mexican-American woman who lives with two mutts in Austin Texas who loves to video chat on her phone, even if that means me staring at her nostrils. She calls me up and reminds me that New Yorkers are tough and that I’ll get through this and not to worry about her (which I do.) Sometimes, around midnight or so, she drives to Wal-Mart to walk around and shop, mindful to keep away from people. She also loves to make fun of Donald Trump, who isn’t a real man, not to her at least. Sometimes my brother makes an appearance and it’s a video party. We end each call with “I love you” and “take care” and then I wonder when I will be able to see her again.

‘The West Wing’ On Netflix

Aaron Sorkin’s 20-year-old fable about an honest president and all his smart, witty, capable men and women is comforting to watch even if there are some cringe-worthy moments of soft sexism (White House Press Secretary CJ Cregg, played by living legend Allison Janney, is written as a little too much as a ditzy dingbat.) I have been re-watching the first season of The West Wing because it hypnotizes me into believing someone in authority is going to do the selfless thing for their country. I know that sounds pathetic, but this political fantasy brings me joy! The West Wing is a show with zero ironies. It is a serious hourlong drama about serious-minded government officials doing serious work on behalf of their countrymen. It is romantic. It is cheesy. The characters are always on the move, walking and talking, saving the world. When they’re not lobbing clever quips at each other they’re making soaring patriotic speeches about the inherent goodness of America. Every episode is a bowl of candy. But Battlestar Galactica is a more believable show than The West Wing.

Oatmeal

I am living on a very strict budget, especially since I have no idea when this quarantine will be over and also, you know, the economy is cratering and I don’t know if I’ll ever be employed full-time again. So I have enough oatmeal to thicken the Hudson. The nutritional value of oatmeal aside (fiber is good for you!) I am really loving my quiet ten minutes or so morning oatmeal making ritual and even more than that, I am savoring every satisfying honey-kissed bite. (Oh yeah, I bought a bunch of honey. Honey is life!)

The New York City Subway

The 1 train rumbles past my living room window on an elevated track. My apartment has a special glass so it’s not too loud. These days the trains are almost completely empty as they zoom by. Last month, during morning and evening rush hours, those cars would be crammed with human beings on their way to work or home. But now I watch these trains, without passengers, hurtle across their tracks every twenty minutes, and instead of feeling deeply saddened I find myself inspired. New York City is still alive. The trains run, waiting for our return. And we will return.

Tolerance

My upstairs neighbor has chosen to learn the cello during this unprecedented health crisis. When he plays, it sounds like a medium-sized mammal sobbing. He has no aptitude for the instrument but instead of banging on the ceiling with a broom handle, I’m sort of rooting for him. He only practices a couple of hours a day so I go for a walk or put on my earbuds. He’s trapped inside, like me. He doesn’t have to do this. But he must know that self-quarantine is the smartest way to protect himself and those around him. So, good luck learning the cello, neighbor!

Hot Showers

Every night before bed I enjoy a nice long, muscle-melting hot shower. I once regarded showers as strictly a requirement of living. An essential clause in the social contract. I had to clean myself so I did not smell and offend other people. But now showering is self-indulgence. It’s my personal journey to a rainforest. I stand under the scalding water for 40 minutes and let every drop of water dribble down my body and carry my stress away. I soap up and shampoo and stretch. I inhale and exhale steam. The only downside of my hot shower is the fact that I have to wait 24 hours until the next one (I suppose I could shower more than once in a day but a little anticipation doesn’t hurt.)

Coloring Books

A few Christmases ago my family got me a pair of oh-so-trendy at the time coloring books that I rolled my eyes at when I unwrapped them. Well, whose the jerk now? I have spent a number of blissful hours recently gently coloring inside wildly ornate patterns. I am shocked by how transporting it is. I can almost feel my brains’ neurons connecting to other neurons while I gently run a pink pencil back and forth over a patch of uncolored book.

Smoked Gouda Triscuits

A week or so before the call to stay inside and “flatten the curve” I panicked shopped for food and supplies. I bought toilet paper and hand sanitizer and canned soups. I also bought three boxes of Smoked Gouda Triscuits. I adore Triscuits because they’re like crackers with hairy chests. A truly substantial snack that can stand up to aged cheeses and fatty cold cuts. Smoked Gouda Triscuits are the best of the dozen or so flavors Triscuits produce. I have rarely encountered a chemical cheese flavor as delicious as the one I’m assuming is sprayed into each box of Smoked Gouda Triscuits. These are so good I could probably sell each cracker for $5 on the street.

Long Phone Calls

I talked to a friend of mine who lives 60 blocks away yesterday while walking my dog. We talked about feelings and Shakespeare and cooking and politics. He made me laugh out loud. It was like having one of my best friends live inside my ear.

Memes

My younger brother, a fully grown adult man from the Great State of Texas, text messages me dozens and dozens of memes he thinks are hilarious. Some are political, some are offensive, some are… amusing? I mean, memes are just bumper stickers, right? Anyway, he sends me memes inspired by The Simpsons and Star Wars. I enjoy any meme featuring Bane, Batman’s musclebound nemesis. He also makes sure I have a plentiful supply of funny coronavirus content to keep me laughing as I quake in fear in my small apartment. The memes that make me groan are as fun as the ones that make me howl. These memes are one way my brother tells me he loves me and he texts me memes multiple times a day.

Hearty Soups

The other day my girlfriend made what we call a McGuyver soup, which is when she uses what we have, and her own creativity, to invent a tasty soup. This recent MacGyver soup was poblano peppers, frozen broccoli, beans, and maybe six other ingredients. Sure, the soup was the color of a Gremlin smoothie but it was delicious. I don’t know how she made it. The first time she asked me to try it I shrugged because it tasted good enough. I reacted the same way after the second taste test. But she kept tinkering with the soup like a mad scientist and the third, fourth, and fifth taste tests was each tastier than the last. I swear this soup cured me of my allergies. It’s magical. I am very thankful for my medicinal quarantine improv soup.

Sunlight

I have a very small one-bedroom apartment but I have one window that manages to capture every sunbeam the sun can throw at the earth in the early mornings. I like to wake up and then wash my face in golden sunlight. I have never been someone who tans but spending a few minutes every day soaking in sunlight has been healing. I literally feel like I’m charging an inner-battery when I make a purposeful decision to sit and drink in some rays from the giant celestial ball of fire in the sky. You know, the one that will one day eat this world before collapsing on itself!

Checking In On Friends And Family

I am so thankful for random texts from the people in my life checking in on me and I’m so happy to return the favor. This is one of my greatest transformations, too. There was a time — January, maybe? — when I was a bit of a Scrooge when it came to getting a random text that read “How are you feeling?” I’d respond as if the question was an inconvenience somehow, and then I strangely as if there are no poor houses. I have struggled my whole life with intimacy — letting people in, especially those who love me without condition. When they’d ask how I was I’d recoil. It was too much to be honest with myself, much less them. But that was a hundred years ago. I’m a different man now that I’ve been visited by the Ghost of Pandemic Present. Are you okay? Seriously. Let me know in the comments. Me? I had a little anxiety today but otherwise, I’m feeling pretty grateful.

Comic Books

I was laid off a couple of years ago and a good friend of mine, Sam Thielman, met me for coffee. I don’t know if you’ve ever lost your job but there are people who won’t even return your calls because they think unemployment is contagious. But not Sam. Anyway, we met for coffee and he sneakily handed me a bag of comic books with the casualness of a Cold War spy. The graphic novels were a mix that included at least ten Hellboy books, Mike Mignola’s famous supernatural monster-killing character who has starred in three big-budget Hollywood movies. Sam also threw in a few surprises, including Stan Sakai’s Usagi Yojimbo and Warren Ellis’ Injection. I am rereading them now, only slowly, because I have nowhere to go. It’s wonderful.

My Dog, Morley Safer

I’ll get emotional if I write too much about my dog. There was a day last week I was too depressed to get out of bed and Morley licked my ears until I had no choice but to get up. And you know what? I felt better when I did. Morley is wise. She is the reincarnation of an ancient goddess. She is a daily reminder of the good things in life: naps, snacks, kisses, and more naps. That is her primary purpose, especially during the plague. If you have a dog, let them teach you how to live. If you have a cat, thank them for allowing you to live.

Clean Socks

When I’m feeling a little blue I change my socks. I do not know why this completely reboots my emotional state but it totally does and I highly recommend it. It feels so nice to peel off the old and slide into clean new foot gloves.

Fresh Lemons

My corner bodega is the only business open for blocks. The two dudes who run it are still very friendly even if they’re covering their faces with scarves and bandanas. I can tell they’re smiling behind their impromptu masks. Anyway, they are serving eggs and cheese on rolls during the apocalypse. They’re also doing an amazing job of keeping some very basics in stock, and that includes a small daily pile of lemons. I am not going to suffer from scurvy, that’s for sure. I love lemon juice as a dressing. I need it to brighten up canned tuna. And I also drink lots of water with lemon juice squeezed in. It’s a true luxury that I cherish.

A Jump Rope

I get bored exercising and one reason I like to jump rope is that it is time-efficient: ten minutes jumping rope is equal to a half-hour run. So I guess it’s a bit of luck that I ordered a jump rope just in time for all the gyms to close en masse. I am grateful for my jump rope. I live near a riverside park where it’s easy for me to find a small patch of asphalt, either a pass or a tennis court, where I can jump, jump, jump.

A Plastic Virgin Mary Holy Water Bottle

My mother tucked a hollow, plastic statue of the Virgin Mary into my suitcase the night before I left for college. She had filled it with holy water. Later, I would refill it with vodka and drink from it like a sacrilegious flask. What can I say? I was a young alcoholic fully coming into my self-destructive powers. But that was a long time ago. I have held on to my mother’s secret gift for decades now. It has traveled with me from city to city, and apartment to apartment. My mother’s hope was that it would offer me protection. She wanted to make sure the Virgin Mary watched over her son. I keep the statue near my television. I pick it up and carry it around. It helps me think. I sometimes hold it when I pray to my higher power. I know it’s just a plastic water bottle but it makes me feel a little better. I’m glad I have it.