Tuesday, March 24, 2020

The New Way to Shop

Finally, we’ve had some real, hear-it-on-the-roof, rain! It rained all morning before clearing at noon. It’s sunny now, so Sheba and I wil enjoy the park this afternoon. 
It seems likely that we’ll have more rain during the coming week. It’s a huge relief to see my gardens and lawns getting the water they need, and rain is an effective social distancing tool on Vancouver beaches and in the parks.
But what is sadder than having clean, tidy and inviting guest rooms here at Pinecone Park and no hope of guests for the foreseeable future? On the other hand, walking in nature with Sheba is the best of life right now; it’s a time when I can completely forget about the crisis.
Narcissist, plastic surgery icon and mother of clichés, Madonna, released a “comment” on Covid-19. From where? Her bathtub, of course, full of rose petals and naked because … well…she’s Madonna. 
From her bathtub in her Lisbon mansion where she has staff to film her in the bathtub and do her shopping for her, this “singer” who’s well past her “best before” date and desperate, as usual, for attention, spoke of the virus as “a great equalizer.” Talk about tone deaf!
I received an email from my insurer saying that they are suspending medical coverage for any non-essential travel undertaken henceforth by their clients. Slowly, the establishment is beginning to play hardball. Now if we could only get the stupids to stay off the beaches and to stop partying.
I went about to the post office and pet store is this morning. At the post office, one waits outside until the previous person exits. At the pet store, one lines up outside and orders what we want through a window. The server gets what we want, and we pay via card. At the grocery store, the diligence of staff at disinfecting surfaces is impressive and the number of shoppers is controlled.
I wore a mask everywhere I went.
I’m really liking A Gentleman in Moscow a lot. It’s a delicious smorgasbord of manners and beautiful language. The Overstory, in comparison, seems rather self-consciously literary compared to the gentle beauty of Amor Towles’ writing.

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