Monday, March 30, 2020

Tucson, AZ: COVID-19 Unfolding, Part 9: A New Kind of Dance Bag

On the Blue Goose Walk at Sabine Natural Refuge. Louisiana. July 2014.

In South Louisiana, as I immersed myself more into the zydeco and cajun dance scene, I fashioned myself a dance bag, which evolved into this.

With COVID, although I stick to home most of the week, I generally venture out once a week for provisions. Each time I've gone out, I've observed new small things that require touching. Money. Plastic cards. Reading glasses. Purse straps. Seat belt straps. Car door handles. Steering wheel. Sunglasses. Hat. Wallet. Produce. ... etc.

I'm not a germphobe, thank goodness. My goal during the time of the crown is not to achieve an unattainable, sanitized perfection. My goal is to be pretty darn good at doing stuff that protects me and others who might come after me a few moments later.

(So, I saw a man and woman at an intersection. The woman raised her leg to tap the crosswalk button with the sole of her shoe. She couldn't use her elbow? And, yes, I know there are those who use their shod feet to push a toilet handle, too, completely oblivious to, for example, a child coming along afterward and putting their chubby sweet fingers on the handle to flush the toilet like a big girl. FFS.)

So anyway, my corona expedition bag for when I go out for supplies, in two categories:

I keep these in my car, so I don't bring them back in the house. Between excursions, they sanitize-in-place for days in the car, untouched by anything except the sun bathing them all day.
  • Pair of sunglasses
  • Pair of reading glasses
  • Utility gloves 

I've also got a container of sanitizing wipes in my car, which I use to wipe down the steering wheel, interior door handle, gear shifter, starter, etc.

Gogo wristband with pockets

From inside my place, I bring:
  • My plastic cards in a washable terrycloth wrist band (think: sweat band with a pocket)
  • Some cash in a pocket.
  • My driver's license in a separate pocket.
  • Bandana face covering

I pull my hair back into a pony tail to avoid flyaway strands tickling my face, which tempt me to touch it while I'm on an expedition.

When I return home, the wristband and cards, the bit of cash, and my driver's license go onto a table by the door, to just sit for days til I go out again.

The bandana goes into the laundry, as does the outer clothing I wore on my expedition.

What I leave at home: 
  • Phone
  • Wallet
  • Purse

As with sheltering-in-place, the only indicator of success is if ......... nothing happens.

Nothing happening is a good thing.

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