Our school district finally started distance learning this week, and I can already confidently report that there is exactly the same amount of "learning" happening now as during the previous four weeks, which is to say, NOT MUCH, BOB.
Instead, it's mostly kids getting distracted by their own faces and each other's pets on video calls, teachers struggling to unmute their own microphones, and super-challenging homework assignments like "practice writing an email" and "watch this video and then comment with the answer to the question I ask at the end, and/or just type the same answer that 30 other students have already commented with."
(Two. The answer was two. I didn't watch the whole video either.)
On Friday I got the (not entirely unexpected) news that the already-very-slow badging process for federal jobs has officially slowed down even more due to...well, you know. All Of It. So the timeline for Mah New Jerb has been pushed back from "I dunno, hopefully soon" to "I still dunno, but probably later."
On Saturday my prepaid debit card from the unemployment office arrived, at least. So that's fun and humbling.
I took Beau to the vet yesterday, as he's managed to lick and scratch a mild skin allergy on his belly into a bacterial AND fungal infection. Our vet is open but keeps the doors locked now. You hand your pet off to a technician and wait in the car for a phone call. Food and medicines are passed out a window.
Beau actually loves going to the vet (he's so delightfully weird like that; don't even get him started on anal sac draining), so sitting outside in the car while we waited for our turn drove him absolutely bonkerpants crazy. He cried and whined and finally started howling out the window until they came out and let him in.
But then the door closed and he realized I was still on the other side of it, and I think the poor dog's brain just completely short-circuited and he flopped on his side and laid on the floor like a taxidermied goat.
While I waited, a technician unlocked the door and a couple walked out. They made it a few steps before the woman yanked off her mask and began to cry. The man left his mask on, but his eyes were visibly red and puffy. They had a leash. They did not have a dog.
I felt so terrible for them as they walked past a long row of cars, each with someone sitting inside waiting for our phone call, as we all struggled with the make-a-sad-sympathetic-face vs. stare-down-at-your-phone decision. What's the etiquette for socially distanced displays of grief?
They were parked right next to me. My windows were open and I heard the woman's sobs turn into a horrible, painful, primitive wail as soon as she sat down in the car.
We came home with an allergy med, a special shampoo, and 193 fewer dollars in our bank account, but that's okay.
These floofballs are worth more than their weight in Netflix these days.