Those who know me know that I always say it’s almost always the worst day of the week. Monday, it’s grin-and-bear it, buckle up and just get through it. By Tuesday, your grit is gone. You start the day in earnest, maybe even wake up early, but then mid-day, reality sets in and things soon feel overwhelming--first for you and then for the people around you. By the end of Tuesday, it always feels like the week will never end. By Wednesday, however, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel--a feeling that if you can just hang on, things will be okay. On Thursday, there’s usually a bump or two--a cosmic reminder of “Not so fast” until finally Friday arrives and the weekend sets in.
For years now, I’ve worked a Sunday to Thursday shift--so for me, Tuesday always hits on Monday. For decades, I worked overnights, roughly 7 PM to 5 AM. On that schedule, I was always--and especially--out of step with the rest of the world. (Heading into work on a Sunday afternoon was always the worst.) On the overnights, my Tuesday would hit on Monday. I’d wake up early and come to work. Some time between 10 PM and 12 Midnight, I’d run into a problem and things would go off the rails. When I was on the overnights, Sara used to get up early to have coffee with me in the morning and we soon got to the point where she’d sleep in on Tuesday--and I’d just go straight to bed when I got home.
You may have noticed--or maybe you didn’t--but I didn’t write a coronavirus quiz yesterday, Monday and my Tuesday. It was a rough day for me--and what threw me off the rails was Zoom. I’ve signed up for an account and am using it to keep in touch with my team at work as well as family and friends. I don’t like following directions and am just figuring it out as I go along. On Monday, I was trying to teach someone about Zoom--the blind leading the blinder--and we just could not get it to work. (I ultimately realized we were each setting up separate meeting IDs. We’d be on the phone, agreeing to join the other’s meeting but then we were not in the original meeting we’d invited the other to join.) During our Monday evening work check-in, I was grim, pointing out that the coronavirus story was only going to get worse--much worse--before it got better.
After that work check-in, my daughter Annie called me. She’s a psychiatric social worker at a hospital in New York City. They’re scrambling to deal with coronavirus patients (and infected workers) while trying to clear beds, protect their clients and keep themselves safe. Annie called because she was worried that the federal government wasn’t going to do enough--and for long enough--to protect people like her with talk that federal guidelines might soon be eased. I tried to comfort her by pointing out that most day-to-day operational guidelines are being set at the state level--and, for her in New York, it would be Governor Cuomo who would decide when the stay-at-home order would be lifted in NYC. That was a comforting thought.
I went to bed in a bad mood--and when I woke up, I wasn’t feeling much better. But then, something unexpected happened. In bed, Happy did her morning thing--rolling over and asking for a belly rub. I wanted to get a picture of it and grabbed my iPhone from my bedside. Taking the picture of Happy, I noticed the sun literally peaking through a hole in the blinds. When is the sun going to come up? As my co-worker Chelsea will tell you--belting it out in full-Broadway mode--”Tomorrow, tomorrow….”
Prior to joining a morning conference call with a co-worker with whom I have shared my “Tuesday is the worst day of the week” theory before, I texted that I think we’re now in the Tuesday of the coronavirus. Shutting things down, figuring out how to stock your home and where you’re going to take shelter is the Monday. Now, we’re on Tuesday--and it’s going to be a long Tuesday. Still, at some point, it will turn to Wednesday. There are dual time lags with the virus--between infection and detection and then between sickness and death. When the worst starts to end, I suspect we may not even notice it at first. Still, “Tomorrow, tomorrow...:” Wednesday’s coming.
What did NOT happen?
A. When I told Sara on Monday about my problems with Zoom, she showed me an article she’d just seen on social media from The Onion. The headline was “Nation Close to Getting Videoconferencing to Work.” She emailed me the link, but when I went upstairs to read the article, the link didn’t work. That made me even more mad and frustrated;
B. Stella the dog has been rehabbing in the kitchen from knee surgery in late January. Sara had given Stella a blanket for her dog bed and on Monday, Sara decided to wash the blanket. Stella was mad when the blanket was removed and then livid when it came back clean and scent-free. Sara and Will reported that Stella gave Sara the stink eye and Stella made a point of literally leaning into Will;
C. I spoke to Betsy on Monday. She was prepping for a Zoom lesson with her 4th grade class of stay-at-home students. She told me she had ordered a bicycle from Amazon and was going to use it for exercise in Hoboken;
D. On Tuesday, Annie sent me a text with a picture of ambulances lined up at the entrance to her hospital’s ER. I texted back, “Cuom-O” After a pause, I added, “Steve-O”--a name Annie has used for me in the past. She responded, “Oh god Dad;”
E. On Tuesday, I took my mid-day walk with each of the dogs. When I got to the house of some neighbors who just moved in last summer, I noticed the man standing outside his SUV’s door in the driveway. I knew his wife was pregnant and asked how she was doing. She emerged from the other side of the SUV and said, “The baby’s coming. We’re on our way to the hospital now.” She was calm and I asked if they’d like a photo to commemorate the moment. They gladly agreed and I snapped a photo of them outside the SUV. I texted the photo to them. “Tomorrow, tomorrow…”
Want the answer?
If you’re a subscriber, the answer will be sent to you as a separate email when the question is published.
Want more?
Here’s the next quiz in the series: Quiz #11. The F-Word.
Here’s the previous quiz in the series: Quiz #9. 99.6.
Here’s the first quiz in the series: Quiz #1. Stella and Social Distancing, March 13, 2020
The quiz is explained here: Steve’s Stay-at-Home Coronavirus Quiz.
Here is an archive of all the quizzes.
Want to let me know how I’m doing with this quiz?
Please let me know about any typos or misspellings.
Comments, corrections and confessions welcome.
Thank you and good night.
Thanks for reading.
Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for commenting.