Day 39: minor terrors and side effects
The major terrors of COVID - actual COVID, COVID side effects, death, food shortages, economic collapse - are all a bit distant to those of us in my fortunate position, but the minor terrors will get you every time. See: car battery, yesterday. Today I braved Uber and hit Rondebosch to get a prescription filled and buy the next two weeks' worth of groceries, and... um. This mask thing. It's bloody horrible.
Problem one: I don't like things on my head, I get claustrophobic and a bit panicky. I don't wear hats, I did fourteenth century in the SCA so I didn't have to wear smothering veils (I trained myself into a very light circlet by sheer bloody-mindedness), and traditional Muslim is right out for a variety of reasons only partially related to my rampant and incurable atheism. Having something on my face is awful, even the swanky, shaped and pleated, nurse-approved mask I ran up over the weekend; I feel compressed and trapped and desperate even before having to deal with the sound of my own breathing.
Problem two: masks are not designed for people who, owing to really weak vision and bumpy eyelids which preclude contact lenses, have to wear glasses. Wearing a mask, your glasses steam up with every breath you exhale, even with the glasses over the top of the mask. I bumbled around the supermarket panicky from face-coverage and double panicky from not being able to see a bloody thing because of the misted glasses. My heart started racing and I got all lightheaded, which I realised after a bit was because I was unconsciously holding my breath so I could see enough to buy the products I actually wanted rather than those immediately to their left, or in a different aisle entirely but with the same approximate colour of packaging. It was not, shall we say, my favourite shopping expedition of recent times.
But there are some pleasant, minor side effects. Either regulations have relaxed a bit or Checkers is a lot more laissez faire than Pick'n'Pay, because they sold me a giant bottle of organic kelp-derived plant food without so much as an eyelid twitch, so I can druid slightly more effectually. And the Uber guys offered the usual pleasant chat, making me realise that taking an occasional Uber and tipping generously is actually something I can do for them, I can afford it, and they're really struggling with no-one going anywhere. (It's apparently a bit better since Friday, as the opening up of food deliveries appears to have been leaped upon by a stir-crazy populace and everyone is getting takeout). And, finally, I clambered out of the Uber with my two bags of groceries, and promptly stopped short outside my door to swear heartily because I was fogged up and couldn't see, and my nice neighbour came out to see if he could help, and it transpires he has a battery charger and will cheerfully charge mine for the next time I need to go anywhere. Which won't, mercifully, be for another week or so. Because I'm exhausted. This entry was originally posted at https://freckles-and-doubt.dreamwidth.org/980440.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Problem one: I don't like things on my head, I get claustrophobic and a bit panicky. I don't wear hats, I did fourteenth century in the SCA so I didn't have to wear smothering veils (I trained myself into a very light circlet by sheer bloody-mindedness), and traditional Muslim is right out for a variety of reasons only partially related to my rampant and incurable atheism. Having something on my face is awful, even the swanky, shaped and pleated, nurse-approved mask I ran up over the weekend; I feel compressed and trapped and desperate even before having to deal with the sound of my own breathing.
Problem two: masks are not designed for people who, owing to really weak vision and bumpy eyelids which preclude contact lenses, have to wear glasses. Wearing a mask, your glasses steam up with every breath you exhale, even with the glasses over the top of the mask. I bumbled around the supermarket panicky from face-coverage and double panicky from not being able to see a bloody thing because of the misted glasses. My heart started racing and I got all lightheaded, which I realised after a bit was because I was unconsciously holding my breath so I could see enough to buy the products I actually wanted rather than those immediately to their left, or in a different aisle entirely but with the same approximate colour of packaging. It was not, shall we say, my favourite shopping expedition of recent times.
But there are some pleasant, minor side effects. Either regulations have relaxed a bit or Checkers is a lot more laissez faire than Pick'n'Pay, because they sold me a giant bottle of organic kelp-derived plant food without so much as an eyelid twitch, so I can druid slightly more effectually. And the Uber guys offered the usual pleasant chat, making me realise that taking an occasional Uber and tipping generously is actually something I can do for them, I can afford it, and they're really struggling with no-one going anywhere. (It's apparently a bit better since Friday, as the opening up of food deliveries appears to have been leaped upon by a stir-crazy populace and everyone is getting takeout). And, finally, I clambered out of the Uber with my two bags of groceries, and promptly stopped short outside my door to swear heartily because I was fogged up and couldn't see, and my nice neighbour came out to see if he could help, and it transpires he has a battery charger and will cheerfully charge mine for the next time I need to go anywhere. Which won't, mercifully, be for another week or so. Because I'm exhausted. This entry was originally posted at https://freckles-and-doubt.dreamwidth.org/980440.html. Please comment there using OpenID.