Five ways COVID-19 has changed our behaviour
Last week I had the strangest dream.
I was standing outside when a fleet of government trucks with loudspeakers passed, announcing the latest virus restrictions.
“If you love your elderly relatives do NOT phone them! The virus can be transmitted over the telephone.
“Communicate only be email! Only email!,” the message shouted — before I woke up, halfway between laughter and tears.
It was a sign the virus has entered deep into my subconscious, preparing me for almost anything. On the surface I’m quite calm but inside, like many, I’m obviously not.
Last week I was still shellshocked by the elimination of many freedoms overnight. Now I’m increasingly numb to my new routine where I barely know Saturday from Monday because they’re the same.
Like everyone, as COVID-19 spreads my behaviour is changing profoundly in ever more ways, in our strange new world.
For instance, I’ve learned: Slalom walking: It took years to develop our city’s winter walking wizardry, from leaping slush puddles to tiptoeing across ice. But we’ve become expert COVID-19 walkers in days.
We dodge and weave down sidewalks as strangers approach, instinctively zigging as they zag to create the desired six-foot gap. If watched from above it’s an antiviral ballet, dancing its way through potential germ fields.
When passing, both walkers give polite nods of solidarity to show we’re in this together. But our subconscious fear pushes us even further back: we both know the other might be a large viral droplet of death, and think: “Stay awaaaaay!”
We are more united and separate than ever before.
To-do-nothing lists: Many people started self-isolation pledging to finish lifelong to-do lists. They’d learn a language, write a novel, lose weight, give up drinking and renovate the house.
Yet it’s hard to concentrate on even one of these, since this crisis saps us unconsciously. It takes a lot of inner effort to keep anxiety at bay, while perpetually washing your hands and maybe your phone, keys and credit card, all while isolating from many you love.
There’s no reserve left to give up drinking, lose 75 pounds or master Mandarin. If you can avoid becoming an alcoholic, a pothead or gaining 50 pounds, be proud.
In months, cannabis has gone from being an illegal substance to an essential Quebec service. So take it easy and start a to-do-nothing list.
Try not painting the walls — or just daydream. A clever British online song asks people to proudly do their national duty by doing nothing at all.
Just eat cereal and stare at the wall … Stay calm, carry on and do F* all.
Run for your life: Many Quebecers are bravely trying to keep fit. The streets are filled with newbie joggers, virgin marathon walkers and dog speed-walkers.
I know seniors confined to tiny residence rooms the past week who do laps around them each day. Others jog around their balconies, emulating the Chinese man who ran a COVID-19 marathon without leaving home.
It’s all inspiring — besides, if we don’t exercise Canada will weigh 350 million more pounds whenever this ends.
Stressing over sanitation: Overnight our vocabulary has added new words like “social distancing”, “self-isolating”, “lockdown” and “self-quarantine.” A month ago if someone had said he was
“locked down” to help “flatten the curve”, I’d have figured he was a baseball pitcher.
Most people are keeping six feet away, and washing their hands — and everything that’s touched anything that might have touched someone else.
This new germ regimen has burrowed deep into my subconscious. When I see TV shows with people kissing, or walking in crowds, I instinctively want to shout: “Don’t do that — it’s dangerous!”
Will we all be marked forever by fear of germs, like our parents and grandparents were by fear of war?
Self-reflection: Like everyone, there’s much I miss, and not just movies, concerts, plays, sports, restaurants, friends, family and my entire life in the B.C. era (Before COVID).
I miss the luxury of complaining about now trivial things like rush-hour traffic — or not being able to find a parking spot. I miss whining about crummy weather, construction cones or poor restaurant service.
I miss my chats with butchers, grocers, mechanics, neighbours and strangers. Now that they’re largely hidden away I realize how important they were. I miss simple things like my barber, or watching tennis and basketball. I’d even be happy to watch golf.
More importantly, many people miss their once unappreciated jobs — and especially their salaries.
Still, it’s good to reflect that most of us live in relatively modern homes with electricity, TV, computers, safe drinking water, food delivery and countless other things they didn’t have during the 1918 pandemic.
OK, that’s enough reflecting! Now show some inner resolve and go binge on Netflix’s trashy Tiger King.
Stay well, and follow the rules, for all of us. I better sanitize my phone, which touched my fingers after my fingers touched a glove that touched a handrail that someone else might have touched. joshfreed49@gmail.com