Complacency

It was already getting light at 4:30 when I woke to the not-so-lovely sound of crows. They're in a tizzy because the young are leaving the nest, and even the sight of a passing racoon sets them off.

Another perfect summer day ahead. How to fill the long hours? Warm and not a cloud in the sky. I'll make one of those small Cornish game hens on the grill tonight. Once upon a time, we could (and would) eat a whole each, now we share. Dinner and wine time are the highlight of the day. Living boiled down the basics, after almost 4 months stuck at home.

A friend who lives in the neighborhood dropped by yesterday to see the garden. That was nice, although a bit stressful. We visited strictly outside; she was meticulous with the 6-foot social distancing, wouldn't touch anything, sit down, or even smell the flowers. Paranoid? Maybe, but I'll take that, over the casual gathering I went to last week.
 
As this drags on there's the potential for more awkward social situations. A public health crisis is not about politics, but everyone isn't on the same page, not even in mask-wearing, liberal Seattle.

At the Metropolitan Market yesterday, I noticed more complacency about social distancing. More complacency about everything, even as the numbers go up. Despite all of our sacrifices, the pandemic hasn't gone away. Masks are a constant reminder of that, and people just don't want to see them.