Memphis, Tennessee, is about an hour and a half from us, and the first observable cases in Shelby County and its neighbors were confirmed just over two weeks ago. Still, despite the last two weeks of hearing horror stories from overseas, and news coming out of big 'burgs like New York, L.A., Miami, and Chicago about the shortages, the closings, and the new rules and indignities their citizens were forced to suffer, I figured a small wide-place-in-the-road town like mine would escape the bug's notice. After all, the weather was in our favor. It had rained nearly nonstop for three or four days, see, and I had heard the virus doesn't thrive in wet, humid climes, which we certainly have here. However, I can see signs the panic is starting to hit close to home. Yesterday I went out to the store to buy a few supplies for lunch and noticed the shelves looking a little bare-- people stocking up on bread, meat, canned, and microwavable goodies had left large gaps in our little grocer's inventory. While walking the dogs I spied a sign on one of the churches announcing Sunday services to be cancelled, as per CDC orders, 'til further notice. I check the news daily to see if any of the colleges in my state have closed their doors yet because of the wave of panic-- something that would have been unthinkable twenty years ago, but with advances in technology you almost don't miss the daily grind of classes and life in cramped, dirty dormitories (unless you just can't fuction without the ambient smell of pot smoke and urine coming from the back stairs). As I work at home, don't go out much, and stay away from people much of the time anyhow, I find my day-to-day isn't terribly impacted by this, plus I wonder if spending so many hours a day hanging out
behind a dirty, germ-filled dumpster with
my old pit bull has tempered my immune system somewhat. I could probably weather a dozen such passing pandemics and not even blink.