Prepping for Corona Break

This essay spans March 12-13, 2020. I wrote it shortly thereafter, probably in April or May, and have revised it several times creating several versions of it. In this particular version I’ve combined two essays into one (Part 1 and Part 2). Part 1 is March 12. It’s pretty angsty, as I discover that the world is about to shut down. Part 2 is the story of me running one million errands on March 13 to prepare for shut down! It’s so odd to reflect on that time now: our personal decision-making processes, our lack of knowledge and information, our desire to connect with other people.

The painting that accompanies this was created a couple of days before we found out we were shutting down. It feels bright and cheerful to me!

-Christy 3/13/23

****

Prepping for Corona Break

PART 1

Maybe to hide my anxiety, I jovially called it Corona Break. 

It was about a week before my 43rd birthday, and I had already decided this milestone was a bit awkward with the oddness of the actual number and the insignificance of the occasion. In comparison to my 40th, which included trips to New Orleans and New York, plus a backyard champagne and donut party, I had low expectations for my 43rd. My husband, Davis, who is a drummer, was out of town for several weeks for a series of gigs. We would celebrate later, and I would go out for pizza with our six-year-old son, Emmett, on my actual birthday.

What I hadn’t planned for the last week of my forty-second year was worldwide pandemic. COVID-19 hit Georgia, where I live, on March 2, but there hadn’t been any reported cases in my area of Atlanta yet. Despite mounting clues about what was coming, it didn’t feel real to me until my son’s school closed on Friday, March 13, 2020. Public health officials hoped this unprecedented closure would slow the spread of the novel virus. For a couple of weeks, we would have Corona Break.

During the previous few weeks, daily notifications from Emmett’s school kept the virus top of mind, but it still didn’t seem like something I needed to worry about. There was an urgent need for more disinfecting wipes in each classroom. Teachers trained the children on better hand washing techniques. The school nurse regularly visited each classroom to see if any students were exhibiting symptoms. One day she called Davis concerned about Emmett’s eyes. They were both pink. Oh no, I thought. Pink eye? Or was this a symptom of the virus? He’d had a rough night of sleep the night before so we sent him to bed early. All was fine the next morning. Thank goodness. 

On Monday, March 9th, the situation started to feel more serious when the school canceled all field trips out of town, which meant the 5th Grade, who had been fundraising all year, would no longer go on their cultural exchange trip to Mexico. My son was in Kindergarten, and I didn’t even know any 5th Graders, but I felt so sad for the kids because they’d worked so hard to raise money. On Wednesday the 11th, the school canceled all upcoming activities and events: Grandparents Day, picture day, the monthly Parents Wellness gathering, and the PTA Art Walk. It especially made sense that Grandparents Day would be canceled. We must protect our most vulnerable population, I thought. 

Indications of the seriousness of the situation started popping up at work that week as well. A few mornings a week, I facilitated workshops as a Teaching Artist at the High Museum of Art. Students visited the museum on field trips from elementary schools located all over the Atlanta metro area. I started hearing about school closures on Tuesday, March 10th when my scheduled workshop was canceled. A teacher had a confirmed case of the virus, and that entire school system had shut down. By Thursday, all of the workshops for that day had been canceled, and the very popular Toddler Thursday program only welcomed twenty young artists throughout the entire day, a small fraction of the usual attendance.

My co-workers and I prepped supplies for future workshops that Thursday morning since we had no children to teach. As we worked in the empty studio space, usually full of excited voices and creative activity, we quietly discussed the precariousness of the situation. “They’ll probably start canceling all of our upcoming field trips soon,” one co-worker commented, though we didn’t know if the school districts would make those decisions or the museum. As I cut paper down into project-specific sizes, worry filled the studio. 

The conversation naturally led to various health concerns. One Teaching Artist had an autoimmune disease, another rheumatoid arthritis, another is missing half a lung, another was healthy, but her husband had cancer. I was shocked to learn my teammates were dealing with so many issues. Am I the only one in our department without obvious risks? Should we all be working in a public space with children during a pandemic? Who else has risks I don’t know about? Friends? Family members? Does everyone have risks? 

We loaded the paper, glue sticks, scissors, and crayons back into the cabinets, ready for our next workshops. As we gathered our purses and waved goodbye, the air was heavy with uncertainty. I wasn’t scheduled to work again until the following week. I’m sure we’ll know more by then, I thought. 

Driving home, my thoughts landed on my small business. For 15 years, my business partner, Shannon, and I had organized artists markets in Atlanta. An event with 65 vendors was scheduled for March 29, a little over two weeks away. Every time I got on social media to promote the event, I felt uneasy. I always work so hard to draw a large crowd to our events because it means our vendors sell more. This time, however, I had a persistent gnaw as though I didn’t actually want people to attend. I didn’t want people to gather in a large group. I had minimal understanding of the virus, but I kept hearing that it was highly contagious. What if people got sick from attending my event? Didn’t I have some moral obligation to not encourage people to gather?  

Earlier in the week, a consultant had advised us to make a decision about our event based on the actions of the local school system and the Final Four, which was scheduled to take place in Atlanta in early April. Schools in the metro area were starting to close, and it had just been announced that the Final Four would be played to an empty arena with no fans in attendance. I agonized over the probability that we would need to postpone our event, something we’d never done before. 

That afternoon, I picked up Emmett and his friend Simon from school. During their playdate at our house, I received the first of many messages signaling the beginning of the end of normal life, the end of The Before Times. The afternoon of March 12th panned out like this...

4:38 p.m.
Text Message
To: All B-P Academy Parents
From: My Son’s Principal

A message we received from Superintendent Carstarphen: school closures beginning Monday. One more day to plan and prep.

Followed by a screenshot from 4:29 p.m. that read:

Based on rec by Gov @BrianKempGA on 3/12, Atlanta Public Schools is going to close, however, need everyone to come to work & class tomorrow, Friday, 3/13, to prepare for an extended leave starting Monday. Anticipate being closed up to 2 wks & potentially extending beyond Spring Break. #COVID19

4:41 p.m. 

Text Message
To: Shannon, my business partner
From: Me

Atlanta Public Schools is closing next week. So we definitely have to cancel or postpone our Spring Market 😓😥😰😓😥😰

6:10 p.m. 

Text Message
To: All Museum Teaching Artists and Management

From: A Fellow Teaching Artist

My son just called me and said the High Museum is closed until further notice. Will I still get my automatic deposit next Friday? Will the museum have any initiatives to help the Teaching Artists during this time? (Smile)

6:13 p.m.

Text Message 

To: All Museum Teaching Artists
From: Management

Hi all - we have a staff meeting tomorrow at 10:30 and we'll find out all information then. After the meeting, we'll convey out what we learn. Please know that the leadership team has talked about you and all staff and how to make this work. We're coming up with a sustainability plan and will be in touch as soon as we work together internally on this. Stay tuned!!!!!!!! Everyone take a deep breath. We got this.

9:33 p.m. 

Email
To: All 65 Vendors Scheduled to Sell at our March 29th Spring Market

From: Me

Dear Spring Market Vendors,

Today we made the very difficult decision to postpone our Spring Market scheduled for March 29th because of ongoing concerns about the coronavirus (COVID-19). We made this decision out of an abundance of caution and based upon the guidance of the CDC regarding “social distancing” and the elimination of large gatherings. 

We've been carefully watching this whole situation (as I'm sure you have been also) and decided earlier in the week to specifically watch decisions being made by Atlanta Public Schools, the High Museum of Art, and the NCAA Final Four. All three of these organizations have made announcements within the last 24 hours stating that they are closing indefinitely (or in the case of the Final Four, they will be playing in an empty arena with no fans!).

Moments after I sent the email to the vendors, two of them replied saying they understood, applauded us for making the right decision, and sent some love. Even though I’d wondered all week if we would have to cancel the event, now that it was happening everything felt sudden. When the Teaching Artists speculated that morning, we assumed our workshops and other museum events would be canceled. None of us even considered the possibility that the whole museum would close. 

I sat and stress-cried for a few minutes before going to bed early. 

The next morning, Friday the 13th, I got Emmett ready for school for the last time for the next two weeks? The next four? We didn’t know. The announcement said, “anticipate being closed up to 2 weeks and potentially extending beyond Spring Break.” Glancing at the calendar, I felt certain it would “extend beyond Spring Break.” There were the definite two weeks, then one more week, then Spring Break. They wouldn’t bring us back for one week and then have Spring Break, I thought. 

When we arrived at school, I walked Emmett to his classroom. I usually said good-bye at the front door with a kiss on his round cheek and a “see you this afternoon!” Occasionally, though, he’d ask me to walk the whole way with him, and I always enjoyed saying hello to his teachers, Mrs. Hughey and Mrs. Kemp. In the hallway, we said hi to our friend Melissa, Simon’s mom, and her four boys, as well Kendra, owner of our neighborhood bookstore, who was dropping off her daughter. Kendra and I engaged in a brief conversation.

Me: Hi, how are you?

Her: Good. How are you? 

Me: Good. Actually, I’m not good. I feel weird. 

Her: Yeah, me too. 

I felt proud of myself for not just saying I felt fine!

When we arrived at Emmett’s classroom, I didn’t see either of his teachers. There was a substitute teacher, which would be no big deal on a normal day, but seeing a stranger increased my anxiety that particular morning. A moment later, I spotted Mrs. Kemp, the class’ paraprofessional, in the hallway. She told me Mrs. Hughey had to go get her son from college because his school had closed suddenly as well, and he had to move out of his dorm. I asked if there was anything she needed help with, but she said no.

“I know this happened so quickly,” I said. 

“It sure did,” Ms. Kemp said with a slow head shake and a sigh. 

My next stop was the front office. By March 20th, we were supposed to have a packet of information returned to the school to register for the following year. It required a series of notarized documents and felt like a huge task at that exact moment. I didn’t know if I needed to hustle and get it done that day or if I could mail it to the school later or drop it in the mail slot or … Ms. Greer, the office clerk, greeted me warmly. “Don’t worry about it,” she said cheerfully. “Now you have three extra weeks to work on it.”

Three, she said three, I thought. Did she know something they weren’t telling us? But if we have three then we actually have four because that fourth week is Spring Break. Or was she just talking in approximates? She said they would establish a new deadline once we all got back. Well that’s good, I thought. One less thing to worry about right now. 

Another one less thing to worry about happened when I ran into one of my favorite teachers, Ms. Lang, the Parent Liaison. I had messaged her the night before worried about students with food insecurity who rely on school for daily breakfast and lunch. When I saw her in the lobby, Ms. Lang told me Atlanta Public Schools was setting up distribution points where students could pick up food and even groceries every day. What a relief to hear there was a plan in place. I wished Ms. Lang well and then saw Melissa again. We chatted, and I wanted to hang on to this moment of normalcy, but there was no reason for me to linger any longer. I had to move on. 

When I got home, I checked my email. My inbox was full of messages from institutions saying they were closed. The wording was all similar, like one person wrote it and then everyone else just copied and pasted. To be honest, I had copied the text on the High Museum website when I let our vendors know about postponing our event, but then I changed it slightly because I felt weird about blatant copying. Every single email in my inbox that morning started with “Out of an abundance of caution.”

I felt out of sorts and was uncertain about the best use of my time. It was my last day without a child at home, and I would be navigating all of this on my own while Davis was out of town for gigs, or would they be canceled? Most importantly, I wanted to keep Emmett safe and away from the general public. With Davis away, was this my last day leaving the house for two whole weeks? Or longer? Was this my last day out in the world? 

Worry about money crept over me as I went about my morning. My job at the museum, the events that I produce, and my husband’s music career all rely on people gathering together, ideally in large groups. I’ve never thought of our jobs as being similar, but it was slowly dawning on me that all of the money that we make revolves around people being together … out in public … in large crowds. When will we be able to gather like that again, I wondered. I put some dishes away, toasted a bagel, and got a cup of coffee. 

Then I cried over my breakfast. I wasn’t exactly sure why I was crying. Was it saying good-bye to our sweet neighborhood school? The decision to postpone our event? The closure of the museum? The potential isolation? Missing my husband? Worry about money? Too many changes at once? The end of life as we know it? 

* * * * *

PART 2

On the eve of Corona Break, I did some shopping. 

After lingering over an anxiety-filled breakfast, I decided the absolute best use of my time was to buy groceries. The kitchen was actually well stocked since I had gone shopping earlier in the week, but apparently normal life was coming to an end, and everyone needed two weeks worth of groceries on hand. I’ve never been a meal planner and wasn’t sure what two weeks of groceries looked like, but whatever it was, I was certain we didn’t have it. 

When I walked outside, I saw my neighbor Kelly and found out he was headed to the same place I was: Your DeKalb Farmers Market, a ginormous warehouse-style grocery store, located six miles from our neighborhood. This was five miles farther away than several other options, and my 18-year-old car had just started making a quiet, yet distinct, noise that indicated maybe I should stick close to home. The farmers market was my best option for successful stockpiling though, and my basic plan was to re-buy everything I had just bought three days prior.

Heading down Memorial Drive toward the market, I started to wonder if I should stop at Fabric Joint, a discount cloth store that I would pass on the way. Nah, I shouldn’t spend any extra money right now. Plus, it was on the left side of the road and it was very tricky to turn into their parking lot. Oh, but Value Village! Value Village Thrift Store was coming up on the right. I had been spending a lot of time learning about natural dyes, and the thrift store is the best place to buy white clothes for experimenting. If I’m stuck at home, I thought, maybe I should take this time to focus on dyeing.

But, I thought again, I really shouldn’t spend any money on anything because here I am with no income all of a sudden. My event postponed and the museum closed. 

But creating could help me stay happy. 

But I should stay focused on my grocery mission so I don’t run out of time before school pickup. 

But it would be nice to have a stack of clothes to dye during this time. This two weeks? This four? This infinity?

But money. 

But happiness. 

I pulled into the parking lot. 

10:50 a.m. 

Location: Value Village Thrift Store 

It wasn’t until I was inside the store that I started debating with myself whether the thrift store might be full of extra germs or not, but this would probably be my last visit for a long time. I settled into the mission at hand, jammin’ along to the oldies playing overhead, hunting for the best selection of shirts to dye. It all felt so natural. So normal. 

While I was shuffling through the clothes, the doctor’s office called to schedule a routine appointment for Emmett. Ninety-nine percent of the time I let calls go to voicemail, but for some reason the local number startled me and I answered, arms full of shirts. They offered me two options in late March. Digging in my purse for a pen, trying to check my calendar on my phone, and dropping clothes left and right, I reluctantly agreed to a date. Here I was preparing for a pandemic that would last possibly beyond Spring Break and they wanted me to come to the doctor’s office? Unable to find paper, I wrote the date and time on my arm once I dug up a pen. I’ll call back later, I thought, to change the date to April or May. When all of this is over. 

I focused on flipping through the racks and found a modest selection of six shirts that would keep me busy for some ambiguous period of time. The cashier was wearing a medical mask and gloves. I wanted to tell her that I’d heard the masks don’t actually help,* but who really knows what’s accurate, I thought. If it were helping her mental or emotional health I didn’t want to mess that up. (*Note to reader: just a reminder, in the very earliest days we were told not to wear masks.)

That morning when I dropped Emmett off at school, I’d chatted with teachers and parents, members of my community. Everyone was feeling apprehension, looking for connection, needing to talk. Now I was out in the world, running these last minute errands. While I am prone to conversation with people I don’t know on any given day, this particular Friday the 13th was full of encounters with strangers. It seemed everyone was seeking camaraderie, validation, guidance, a friendly face or just a moment of distraction from the uncertainty. The masked cashier at the thrift store was my first such encounter of the day. 

“Kroger down the way looked crazy when I got here,” she said.
“Oh man, I’m actually headed to the grocery store since my son is going to be home every day for every meal now,” I said emphasizing the word “every.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with all my kids at home,” she said shaking her head.

With a nervous laugh, we wished each other good luck!

Total Dollars Spent at Value Village: $28.23

Total Time Spent at Value Village: 20 minutes

11:20 a.m.
Location: Your DeKalb Farmers Market

After my quick hunt at Value Village, I drove to Your DeKalb Farmers Market. As I pulled into the parking lot, I was filled with trepidation. Oh no, it was going to be one of those visits. In stark contrast to my trip on Tuesday when I’d run into an old friend and we stood in the aisle casually catching up, I knew as soon as I saw the parking lot that this was going to be pandemonium. I had a lifetime of experience shopping at this huge place during chaotic times, like the annual dreaded Christmas Eve Eve shopping expedition, but with impending COVID quarantine I could only imagine the bedlam.

11:21 a.m.
Text Message 

To: Kelly, who had pulled out of his driveway at the same time I’d left mine

From: Me

Omgggggg! I stopped for one errand on the way and just got here. It’s cray! 

11:22 a.m. 

Text Message

To: Me

From: Kelly 

It’s not as bad as it looks. You’ll be all right LOL
They were only out of one thing I was looking for, and people are being suuuuuuper nice right now.

Well that’s good, I thought. When I got inside, I saw that the employees were working hard to keep the shelves filled and most items were well stocked. I had to buy a different brand of tofu than normal, they were out of my usual oatmeal, and I grabbed the last two-pound bag of rice on the shelf. I would have bought the ten-pounder if I had to. 

During the two minutes it took me to grab a bag of rice, I got trapped in a back corner by other shoppers. While making a million tiny maneuvers with my shopping cart in order to escape, I glanced into a nearby shopper’s handbasket. It was filled with bags of plantain chips and nothing else. What did he have going on here? What was this plantain pandemic plan? We weren’t near the plantains. Had he come to this corner specifically to get rice to add to his plantain chips? Did he plan to just eat rice and plantain chips for the foreseeable future? Finally disentangled from the other carts, I abandoned my questions in the corner and moved on to my next quest. 

Over in the refrigerated area, a woman showed me a text message from her daughter who was asking for Beyond Burger. I told her I didn’t think they carried that, and I showed her the off-brand fake-meat crumbles and faux hot dogs that they sold as I put these items into my shopping cart. 

“I like that bag of onions,” I pointed to her cart with a smile. She had a bag that was the size of a three-year-old sitting in the kid seat of her cart. She said her plan was beans and rice. Now I understood the need for onions. 

“You know you can live off that,” she said.

“Absolutely!” I smiled and waved as we parted ways. 

Of utmost importance, I picked out four chocolate bars and two pints of ice cream. We would need these during troubled times. Once I made all of my selections, I pushed my overflowing cart to the cashier room, which is separate from the main floor of the market. There are probably 50 cash registers in this room, but on a normal day they usually only have half of the registers open. On this most special day, they were using almost all of them, which meant there was only one person ahead of me in line. 

The registers do not have a long conveyor belt like the regular grocery store. Instead there is a wood counter next to the register that is approximately 15 x 15 inches. You can only put part of your groceries out at a time, and then you add more as space becomes available. It’s a real team effort between cashier and customer. 

Feeling tight on time before school pickup, I placed my groceries on the counter in categories. Refrigerator items, freezer items, produce, non-perishables. My cashier bagged them accordingly. Most of the employees at the market are refugees and don’t speak English yet, but the task at hand didn’t involve much talking. My cashier smiled as she presented me with the exceptionally long receipt. 

Total Dollars Spent at Your DeKalb Farmers Market: $203.77 

Total Time Spent at Your DeKalb Farmers Market: 90 minutes

1:00 p.m.
Location: Fabric Joint

Passing Value Village on the way home got me thinking. Six shirts? Would that really keep me busy? This was, after all, the very last time I’d be running errands for the rest of my entire life. Traveling down the other side of the road, it was easy to pull into the Fabric Joint parking lot. 

I walked in, went straight to the counter, and asked for white, 100% cotton, muslin fabric. The man, who I assumed was the owner, measured it out, cut it, rang me up, and I was out of there in 8 minutes with four yards of muslin tucked under my arm. Four yards of dyeing and then the inevitable sewing would keep me occupied for an indefinite amount of time. Perfect since an indefinite amount of time was exactly what I had.

As I closed my wallet and started walking towards the door, a nickel escaped onto the floor. An employee a few steps ahead of me turned around. 

“I thought maybe I dropped that,” he said with a smile. 

I laughed, “You were hoping, right?” 

He laughed, held the door open for me and wished me a good day. 

Total Dollars Spent at Fabric Joint: $12.92

Total Time Spent at Fabric Joint: 8 minutes

1:18 p.m.
Location: Family Dollar 

Driving back towards my house, I decided to make one more spontaneous stop on Memorial Drive right by my neighborhood. I had just enough time before school let out to run into Family Dollar then drop all the food off at home, get the perishables in the fridge or freezer, and make myself a snack before darting back to the school to pick up Emmett. 

Family Dollar is not my favorite place to shop, but it does come in handy. It’s just half a mile from my house, you can always park right at the front door, it’s cheap, and they actually have a pretty big selection of items crammed into a small store front. 

The scene at Family Dollar was a bit chaotic when I pulled in to park. The lot looked full. Could it be that every single parking space was occupied? Were there really twenty whole people shopping in there at one time? Unheard of. Additionally, there was a police car with its blue lights on sitting in the middle of the lot. Anxiety rising and time dwindling, perhaps I was flying too close to the sun with this final errand and needed to just go home. But then the blue lights turned off, the police officer drove away, and a parking space directly by the front door appeared out of nowhere. This last stop was obviously meant to be! 

The moment I walked through the door of Family Dollar, I realized we NEED JUNK FOOD! Immediately I grabbed Oreos, a big bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, and a giant box of gold fish. Three items I never buy. I mean, I’m no monster. Of course, I provide my child with snacks, but it’s usually small, reasonable quantities of Annie’s Organic Cheddar Bunnies, not Pepperidge Farm Gold Fish. 

I picked up two large pads of drawing paper for Emmett, the prolific artist. Soap, toothpaste, and a few food items they didn’t have at the farmers market: ramen, oatmeal, Cheerios. There had been tons of news reports of stores running out of toilet paper and people hoarding it. Family Dollar had shelves full of toilet paper, but I already had some at home. What a waste, I thought. Finding a well-stocked store when I was currently well-stocked myself. 

I was hunting around for mustard when I heard two customers talking. “This is crazy. It’s like out of a horror movie,” a man said. The store did, in fact, look disheveled. It always looked a little unorganized, but it was definitely worse that day. It was well put together in some areas, but looked picked over with gaps on the shelves and there were unpacked boxes in the aisles. He was holding three 6-packs of red ready-to-eat Jell-o and talking with a woman who was wearing a county work uniform.

Drawn to their conversation, I listened to the woman state that she had stopped in to buy a few things for her lunch, but that she needed to go grocery shopping for real so she could stock up. She mentioned her daughter and her 5-month old grandbaby with a worried expression. The man said, he felt certain that his college would remain online for the rest of the school year.

The line was approximately five people deep the whole time I was in the store. The lady behind me in line dropped her phone. We both looked nervously as she turned it over. The screen was intact. A minute later I dropped some of the items I was waiting to buy. We had dropping stuff in common. When I got to the cashier I added two large Snickers to my pile. One for immediate consumption, one for “emergency,” which I would hide in my underwear drawer. 

I had exactly 45 minutes before I had to be at the school.

Total Dollars Spent at Family Dollar: $43.08

Total Time Spent at Family Dollar: 25 minutes

2:30 p.m.
Location: School Playground

Home just a few minutes later, I unloaded the perishables so perfectly organized by the cashier at the farmers market and made myself a sandwich before heading to pick up Emmett at school. As soon as I got to the school I ran into Karyn, one of my mom friends. She had been at the nearby giant Kroger and all the checkout lines had stretched the full length of the store. She had to wait 30 minutes for her turn. I thought fondly of the single person in line ahead of me at the market earlier. 

Sunny afternoons always meant that the parents hung out and chatted while the kids played on the playground. The temperature was in the mid-60s with a slight breeze, a perfect Atlanta spring afternoon. Emmett was excited to show me that there were Girl Scout cookies for sale, and I was super excited to receive this information! The school’s troop leader, a teacher, realized this was probably her last opportunity for an audience so she had rolled the cookies out to the playground on an A/V cart. We bought a box of Tagalongs, Do-si-dos, and Thin Mints.

About 20 minutes later, the school janitor came out to tell us he had to lock down the grounds. We had to leave, but parents decided to reconvene at Brownwood, our neighborhood city park.

Twenty-five kids enjoyed Brownwood Park for about an hour and a half running, swinging, climbing, yelling, singing, and skipping. The parents talked about how, during this time of school closure, we would meet at the park every afternoon to mitigate loneliness and to get the kids outside. I had already decided my child would only spend time with kids from school because he’d probably already swaped germs with them. I noticed Emmett sharing the giant saucer swing with a kid I didn’t recognize and wondered if I should stop him, but decided to let it go. 

In a neighborhood email chain the night before, parents had discussed getting the kids together for outdoor play dates and bike riding. A neighbor, who I don’t know, bluntly replied that if schools are closing then why would we get kids together. “I mean,” we all said on the playground that glorious afternoon, “there’s a huge difference between 5 kids outside riding their bikes and 500 kids sitting inside all day.” Parting ways, we vowed to meet up regularly. 

Total Dollars Spent on the School Playground: $12

Total Time Spent at the School Playground: 20 minutes, plus an hour and a half at the park

4:30 p.m.
Location: Bookish 

As I pulled away from the park and started to turn right onto Glenwood Avenue towards home, I saw a golden opportunity. In a rare scenario, I was able to turn left at that moment and could pull directly into the parking lot of Bookish, our neighborhood used book store. I wanted to support this small, local business once more before shutting myself off from the world. There is no shortage of books at my house, I repeat, no shortage. I’m just so happy that there is a bookstore in my neighborhood again. The last one closed about five years ago, and Bookish had only been open 6 or 7 months. I wanted it to survive this, whatever this was. 

I saw Kendra, the shop owner, when I dropped Emmett off at school that morning. Talking with her now, I started to feel like my plan for social distancing might not be strict enough. Maybe I wasn’t totally getting it. I was surprised to hear that she didn’t plan on bringing her daughter to the shop during this period of time. She also told me about her plan for keeping her business going. People could call or email to make purchases and then they could text her when they pulled into the parking lot by the back door. She would bring the books out to their car. This struck me as pure genius. 

After browsing for awhile, I bought the first book in the Captain Underpants series for Emmett and three memoirs for myself. Since I read slowly, this was several months worth of content, not to mention the non-shortage of books already at my house. 

Total Dollars Spent at Bookish: $23.91

Total Time Spent at Bookish: 30 minutes

5:10 p.m.
Location: Home 

Emmett and I finally returned home for a normal-feeling Friday night: frozen pizza and a movie on my laptop. 

We are prepped, I thought. And now we wait. 

Grand Total Spent Friday, March 13, 2020: $323.91