Thursday morning. Bremerton. March 19, 2020.

It’s Day 2 of my sorta self-quarantine.

I’m not sick, save for the sniffles I’ve had for two weeks now. But no other symptoms, just sniffles. Maybe allergies? Low grade cold? (been feeling run down too but have been traveling extensively lately and on deadline for work).

The office space I work in has closed for the next two weeks for safety’s sake. I’m glad for it – it was stressful being in the office. Even though I have an office with a door, it was nerve wracking trying to make sure I didn’t touch all the things and then making sure I cleaned them when I did.

I have a CenturyLink chat box open on my laptop to try and upgrade my Internet. The current minimum wait time started at 182 minutes and has been bouncing back and forth between 40-ish minutes and 12-ish minutes. My internet is terribly slow, as I’m a cheapskate but even I’m tired of the spinning rainbow ball on my computer and dragging response times.

My second bedroom is my new office. This room is weird because it’s always had an identity crisis. It’s been a gear room. Junk room. Guest room. Reading room. Workout room. During ACL recovery in 2015, it was my work office away from work. Now, 5 years later, it’s my work office away from work again.

But lately, I call it my War Room. Mainly because it’s Ground Zero for some major personal projects, such as the house rebuild, and a magazine article I’m working on. I have whiteboards (homemade and purchased) and a sheet of glass hanging on one wall, covered in notes scrawled out in dry-erase marker, everything categorized by color.

It is immensely satisfying to see it all written out, not on a computer screen, while also immensely overwhelming to see all that needs to be done.

Needless to say, I will not be bored outside of work these days.

CenturyLink wait time: 27 minutes.

I’ve refused to panic or get anxious about this time in America. Well, that’s not completely true.

Last Thursday, reality sorta hit me. So I worked from home – 6 minutes! – on Friday to ease the anxiety. And Monday. When the Governor’s call to shut down bars and restaurants came out on Sunday night, Jeremy and I both were hit again with reality. I wanted to go shopping that night for some extra food. (I did on Monday).

And was thankful when my office announced Tuesday it was shutting down for two weeks, minimum.

Aw, hell, back to a 19-minute wait. My patience will pay off though. I mean, it’s not like I really need to be anywhere other than here.

I have plenty of work things to do on my computer. But my job also is dependent on field work, so that’s going to take some coordinating and investigating the next few weeks.

The traffic outside sounds pretty normal. It’s just quieter than usual in the evenings and early morning. Port Townsend is even quieter. And Port Townsend is a quiet place to begin with.

Jeremy’s here. He’s taking today and tomorrow off to wrap his head around everything that is happening. He’s quietly reading in my living room. I’m happy for his presence. My house feels empty when he’s not here. I introduced him last night to my annual tradition of Guinness Stew, mashed potatoes and homemade brown bread for a delayed St. Patrick’s Day celebration. It was delicious comfort food during this time in America.

I feel like I’m in SAR mode – be prepared with the tools needed for anything that happens. Stay calm. Be educated on what’s necessary to make through … whatever this is.

That does not mean reading all the articles spouting numbers and data from a variety of (questionable, media-hyped) sources and analyzed in every goddamn way possible.

It does not mean scrolling social media mindlessly because most of what everyone is posting is junk or panic or anxiety. Some humor comes through though. My favorite right now is Dan Levy’s Instagram stories. He’s quarantined at his house in Canada (or is it LA?), and he’s demonstrating his bachelor cooking skills daily while calling out everyone who is still engaging in in-person social behavior, in his very passive-aggressive way. I love it.

And the music. Ben Gibbard’s daily concerts. The pre-teen twins playing Coldplay on their violins. Those other violinists playing the soundtrack to the scene in Titanic when the ship is sinking, while wearing life vests and standing in an empty aisle where toilet paper should be…

I’m up now for CenturyLink’s Agent Chat! Yay!