Today I felt useful for the first time in a week. I worked on some projects for the Teaching & Learning team, channeling my anxiety into blogging. It reminded me a bit of working at the Paralympics, where you have to produce something under a lot of pressure. And, actually it’s appropriate, because even though it’s been 4 years since I worked at a Paralympic Games, I’m still wearing my Team Canada sweatpants.

If it was just me alone, I would hole up in my apartment. But because I have a toddler, I’ve been taking her out to run around for an hour a day, to try to practice social distancing. After yesterday’s disaster, we went to Trout Lake. We saw:

  • Many dogs!
  • Many ducks!
  • A dog who was intent on picking up a log, which Dot thought was hilarious!
  • Many people practicing social distancing, enjoying the sunshine!
  • Groups of teenagers huddled together on a blanket, not social distancing.
  • A birthday party in progress, not social distancing.
  • A group of 20-somethings drinking in the park who were:
    • Bragging about a a Coronavirus playlist that they had made and were blasting loudly WHILE NOT SOCIAL DISTANCING
    • Talking about how the Coronavirus would drive up the price of cocaine WHILE NOT SOCIAL DISTANCING
    • Laughing about some internet challenge where people are licking toilets called Coronavirus challenge WHILE NOT SOCIAL DISTANCING!
    • Sharing. A. Bottle. Of. Booze. Drinking. Directly. From. The. Bottle. APPARENTLY LAUGHING IN THE FACE OF SOCIAL DISTANCING!

I’m trying not to be a Social Distancing Narc, since sunshine is good and I can’t control what other people do. But it’s hard to read the scared posts of immunocompromised friends and neighbours, then see people whose lives seem so unaffected. But I guess I’m out there too, trying to keep 6 feet away, chasing my toddler. 

A toddler in a blue sweater stands on a circular mosaic

Dot had fun, at least. She yelled “it’s a good boy! Sit!” at every dog we passed, and then we played a game where she pretended to make ketchup and mustard by stirring a stick in a hollow log.