Day -1

It's official: Schools will be closing in Victoria on Tuesday. This comes as the number of new cases keep increasing: 28 Thursday, 51 Friday, 67 Saturday. And the third confirmed case likely due to community spreading.

That means Jonathan's last day is tomorrow.

That means my last day is tomorrow.

I'll meet Jonathan in the afternoon with an extra large bag, and we'll empty his locker. And carry everything home on the train, because we still don't have a car, even in a pandemic.

"It's irresponsible to be taking the train these days," said a colleague last week, whom we used to see regularly on our commute. Just one of several irresponsible behaviours we have perpetuated since January. 

It's ok. The trains and buses are pretty empty these days, and smell of disinfectant when we hop on them in the morning.

"Do you smell that?" I asked Jonathan on Friday morning. "It smells like cleaning."

"It smells like coronavirus," he replied.

I'll wear a mask. I'll wash my hands when I arrive. Jonathan will wash his hands. I won't meet anyone in my building. I'll shut myself in my office until Jonathan is ready to go. Meetings by Zoom.

The current estimates are that we will be shut down for six months.

We're ok. Not great, but ok. We didn't panic-buy food. We don't have a one-year supply. But we have a couple of months of supplies. And the Prime Minister reminded us on Thursday that Australia grows food for 75 million people, with a population of only 25 million. There is no reason for the food supply to be disrupted. We'll be ok. Still, we'll slowly -- not in panic -- buy an extra bag of flour, an extra jar of oil, as we can. A little more each time we go. We'll be ok.

We get to shelter-in-place adjacent to a 100 acre park. For at least a little while, we can walk its paths if we stay away from others. If we are completely confined, we can watch the seasons change from our windows.

You see how ok we will be?

Why, then, do I feel like weeping?