Spooked

It's surreal. The streets are empty. The cafes are shut. The bars, restaurants, libraries, all deserted and dark. Yes, you can get take-away, but social distancing makes the experience very different from the usual bustle of going out for pizza or Thai. The buses don't make all the stops, because there's nobody waiting. At most there will be six people on a bus, even one of the double-length, and everyone sits as far apart as possible. We're working alternating days at home or the office, split into teams. I will not see some of my colleagues now for months. I went to the vet to get some of the special diet food my cats now require. They were open, but have the door locked. Gloved and masked, they open only to allow the animals inside. Everything else takes place over the phone. It's so quiet. Less traffic on the street, fewer people, usually just because they have a dog to walk. I know this is affecting many other people far more than it is me. As an office worker at a hospital, helping run the payroll, I can expect to continue to have an income, which is lucky, since I've just taken on a new home, just prior to this thing blowing up the way it has. But others are being stood down. My upstairs neighbour is an actor and often a stagehand. He will not work now for a long time. Academics, teachers, many others in many different roles will not be able to work. There is no real effort to provide relief. Other countries are guaranteeing 75-80% average earnings for affected people. In the US it's a one-time $1200 check. Here, the Newstart allowance has been raised, minimally, for the first time in 25 years. It's not enough. Billionaires are finding stockpiles of masks and personal protective equipment, and supplying them to hospitals. What was Apple doing with masks in the first place? I have hope this could change the world for good, but no expectations. Bizarrely, Trump's approval ratings are higher than ever before, even while he does a terrible job managing the crisis. Morrison's been forgiven his callous response to the bush fire disaster, as if he's actually doing a good job, even while he contradicts himself at every turn and fails to enact the tough measures that would work to flatten the curve. We're left, around the world, in many countries, to do the job ourselves, even while we cannot interact with one another. Support is staying away. Hand sanitizer is impossible to find. Thank God for soap. The supermarkets now open at seven a.m. for pensioners, eight for the general public. Now they're setting aside seven to eight on Tuesdays and Thursdays for hospital staff. We are on the edge of overwhelmed. It reminds me, sometimes, in my emotional response, to 9/11. I find myself sometimes inexplicably on the edge of tears. The difference seems largely that, whereas 9/11 was galvanizing, there's nothing to be done except nothing. Don't touch your face.