I don’t know about you, but I’ve lost all track of time. Not the date, day, and hour — they’re readily available on various devices. Distinguishing one day from the next is the challenge.
Since March 7, I’ve lived in my own little world. My car hasn’t left the garage more than six times. Toodles and I go for short walks two or three times a day, and I’m trying to run three miles three or four times a week. I’m not — twice a week is more like it — but I’m trying.
Work keeps me busy. On top of additional demands related to the crisis, everything takes longer. Email exchanges over several hours or days have replaced the quick phone calls and office visits of the past. For the same reason, figuring out how to use the necessary technology takes longer too.
I’m getting better, but keeping students engaged with online classes is a skill I’ve yet to develop. Teaching warm bodies beats talking to a computer screen any day of the week, but you do what you got to do. As sacrifices go, moving my course online is a small price to pay.
All of us are moving through heavy fog toward a peak we won’t recognize until it’s behind us. How much longer this will last is anyone’s guess. Frankly, I try not to think about it.
Lamenting the way things were won’t bring them back. Worrying about what the future might bring is equally pointless. Making the most of every minute is really the only option.