Updated: Apr 7, 2020
If someone would have told me six months ago that we were going to have a worldwide pandemic that left millions of people laid off, working from home, wearing masks, bathing in sanitizer and fighting over toilet paper then I would have dismissed them as coo-coo for cocoa puffs. Even now as I sit at home from my makeshift office typing this I can hardly believe the events of the last couple of weeks.
I live in Southern California (Los Angeles area to be more specific) and our city and state government shut down all non-essential jobs and businesses last week. I work at a music booking agency by day and, you guessed it, that is a 'non-essential' business.
Despite not getting my spring bonus worth a few thousand dollars of cold hard cash that I was counting on to get caught up with bills and possibly a vacation, despite hundreds of shows cancelling in March-May, I am still able to work from home and collect a base salary. I am completely self-sufficient (thanks mom, dad, and my Appalachian upbringing) and I have everything I need right here in my apartment to sustain for at least a couple months. I am one of the lucky ones.
I have friends and acquaintances that have all lost their jobs and have no income. I feel for them. I really do. I don't have the words and can't fully imagine what they must be feeling. The fear, worry and stress of where food, rent, bills will come from. It's these folks, my more vulnerable friends, whom I feel I must somehow take care of now.
I personally do not have the cash flow to prop up all of my friends, but I do have a bread machine to make bread for them. And I've been told once or twice that I'm funny, so I do try to stay positive, smile at people and say good morning. While neither of these are equal substitutes for rent or gas money, both bread and morale are commodities in our current situation.
Will it get lonely with all this social distancing? I don't know. I'm kind of a loner anyhow. But for now I am home and content. I've turned my kitchen table into a successful work area. I bought an inexpensive ultimate body works machine from amazon and turned part of my living room into a gym. My freezer is packed with ziploc bags full of chopped fruit, vegetables and meats. Dried legumes are stored in the back of shelves for emergency rations. Toiletries and medicine...I've got plenty.
True, I can't just pop out to see and movie anytime I want and I won't be taking that vacation as planned, but I've got food to last, a roof, a job, a positive outlook, and the internet. Some semblance of civilization still resides under this roof, for now, and for that I am thankful.