Revelation

I really hate being wrong, and I especially hate it when I find out I've been wrong for about five decades.   That's half a century.   I've always been pretty good with my housecleaning but apparently I've spent hundreds of thousands of dollars over the years simply to perfume the air with the pungent smell of Lysol, Mr. Clean or any one of their other pals.   Turns out cleaning is a two stage process - first clean with soap & water and then saturate your surface with whatever disinfectant floats your boat - and LEAVE it in place for at least five minutes so it can go on its seek and destroy mission.  Then wipe it up and either launder the cloth or throw out the paper towel.  I envision a Pac-Man like army importantly swarming around, bumping into each other and barking orders as they track down and annihilate all the germs.

We've ramped up our procedures with Rick too.   He continues to work really hard and has, typically, perfected an excellent sanitization system right in his car.  Precautions have been put into place preventing him from entering past the front door in some of the care homes, and for that I am really grateful.  He still has to deal with his own shut-in clients at home and I wish it could be like the paperboy, just whiz by and toss the prescription out the window and hope it hits the porch.   Maybe it will come to that.  When he finishes at day's end he endures pretty much a cattle-dip procedure that begins with his shoes being left outside the condo.   He enters through the lock-down antechamber (front hall).  He then goes to the laundry room strips off, throws his clothes into the washer, and then sprints pretty much naked through the living room to his shower.   This is my favorite part of the decontamination process and I usually favor a glass of wine to supervise this.  He emerges steam-cleaned in fresh clothes and only then settles to relax, another day behind him.

So, cleaning has joined the aerobic line up and it's pretty good exercise, both physically and mentally because you have to remember what is soaking and what is pre-soaked and what just needs a splat of cleaning spray.  I am pretty sure some doorknobs around here are getting more attention than others but it's a learning process.  And when I am done, the windows and doors are left wide open (sorry, Calgary!) for a massive dose of sweet, fresh air.  I am hugely lucky to live in a place where I simply open my patio door and step onto a deserted golf course that is surrounded by equally deserted trails.  It's duck courting time here on the Island and it never fails to make me laugh watching the desperate antics of the male mallards as they waggle along hopefully behind their girls.  "Now?" they quack, "No?  Well how about now?"  I'll bet the hens have a wicked gossip session when the drakes aren't around.  And Mickey is getting more than his share of exercise on these long days.  In payment, he provides endless comedy relief and welcome distraction.  There's a new jigsaw puzzle under the bed and a Yahtzee tournament brewing.  All my loved ones are well and for today, and every day, that is all that matters in this crazy time.