Quarantine.

I just bought six cans of Bush’s baked beans.

I don’t even like baked beans.

But we’re in quarantine.

Well…not really. We’re social distancing. Which is sort of the same thing.

In truth, I’m pretty good at that.

I’m the queen of hanging out. So being quarantined is a snap. I wander around the house finding things I should have done ages ago. Like throwing out old underpants. Sorting the kitchen drawer with eighteen warped spoons in it.

Calling everyone I know, making sure they’re social distancing, and not having any fun without me.

And eating.

You eat more when you’re home all the time. Which isn’t really your fault. You’re bored. And, right now, it probably doesn’t count. Nobody gets diabetes during a pandemic. It just doesn’t happen.

I bond more with my dog when I’m hanging out. Carry her around. Furminate her. Normally, I feel guilty that I’m not spending enough time with her. That she’ll like my husband more. But not now.

We’re doing family vacation things now. Puzzles. Five-hundred pieces or less. Watching old movies like “Last of the Mohicans”. Making chicken soup. Playing bananagrams.

And we’ve been stocking up. So that we’re ready when we have to officially quarantine.

I bought stuff I’d need when I got the virus. Gatorade for electrolytes. The bright yellow. I never do the blue.

Schweppes ginger ale.

Those Zicam tablets that melt zinc down your throat.

And any regular food that I could shove into our refrigerator freezer.

English muffins, frozen shrimp, two organic chickens, sausages and eggrolls. My husband reminded me that he had wanted to buy a free-standing freezer to put in the garage. But I didn’t want to. Bad feng shui. The idea reminded me of the freezer I had as a kid in our cob webby, scary basement. And my job was to go fetch the ice cream. No big freezer.

Canned foods are really good in a pandemic. I bought ten cans of chopped tomatoes, one creamed corn, four tuna fish, two cans of pineapple… chunks not rings…and the baked beans I mentioned.

And dog food. My daughter told me that a beagle was quarantined in New York. I’m not sure that was true. But wanted to be prepared.

Until now, I never realized that my immune system was so compromised. Wow. Guess it’s an age thing. So this morning I had two shots of elderberry juice, a scoop of mushroom powder in my smoothie, one glass of grapefruit juice, one green drink, three airbornes, one vitamin D and a shot of an immune boost they were selling next to the cash register in a long silver tube.

Plus, psychologically, it’s a bad time to be over sixty. Now defined as a senior. CNN keeps referring to seniors as…the elderly. Wow. I thought the elderly were people in their second century. And not those superhuman centagenarians in the mountains of Nepal….but the skinny, weaker ones in Bayonne. The elderly.

I guess I’m a target. Maybe we all are.

So I’ll social distance. Quarantine. Play with my husband. Chase my dog. Call my friends.

And eat baked beans.

And maybe, along the way, be a tiny bit relieved to be stepping back. Taking a deep breath. Sitting by my window. And, just possibly, getting to know myself a little better.

Originally published at https://marymottwrites.com on March 18, 2020.