Near the Breaking Point

This week will mark three months since the global pandemic. And, as each week goes by, I feel more and more that I'm starting to buckle under the stress, that my mental and physical well-being is reaching the breaking point.

I'm quick to anger, especially when those around me play fast and loose with social-distancing guidelines. If I go shopping, I find that I can get so stressed that I fear that I'm going to snap. If anyone gets within three metres of me, my heart races as adrenaline flows through me. If somebody gets two metres from me, I vocalize my need for them to stay back.

And if anyone gets less than two metres away from me, I get pretty hostile. If that person isn't wearing a mask, I practically get in a stance as if I'm ready to do battle.

One time, in a grocery store, when someone was pushing her cart against the one-way direction that the store had clearly defined, coming toward me, I raised my voice, urging the shopper to turn around. As she continued toward me, I picked up a can of tinned fruit, ready to pelt it at her if she didn't stop and turn around.

Thankfully, for the both of us, the store manager showed up and turned her around.

The other week, while waiting in line, outside a grocery store, I was with several people, standing at the marked lines to keep us apart. The sidewalk that ran around the building was, at most, a metre and a half, and cars parked up to the sidewalk: if a driver nosed up over the sidewalk, the width of the sidewalk shrank. People who walked to get in line would walk around the cars, in the parking lot, to get to a safe spot in the line.

Wouldn't you know it that some elderly man, with a grumpy look on his uncovered face that said "I don't give a fuck about any of you," walked along the sidewalk, passing those in line. Not only did he not try to keep his distance, moving as closely to the parked cars as he could, but he tried to occupy the middle of the sidewalk, forcing people to flatten themselves against the wall.

When he was about four metres, heading toward me, I spread my arms wide, pointed to a gap between cars, and in a loud, determined voice, said, "Sir, you can't walk here. You have to go around."

This old prick, who was carrying a cane, began to swing the cane from side to side, as if he were cutting a path through an overgrown jungle. He neither slowed his pace nor tried to move around me.

And so, I had to join the others who flattened themselves against the wall. As he passed me, I said, "You're a fucking asshole."

Undeterred, he made his way to the back of the line. Zero fucks given.

I joined DW in our local Costco, and was shocked that people squeezed by each other, stood side-by-side at the refridgerator doors, and how so few wore masks. I cursed the whole time that we were in there.

It was the first and last time that I'm going into Costco until the pandemic subsides or a vaccine is found.

The mere thought of going shopping now stresses me out to the point that I just don't want to be around anybody. With the warmer weather, it feels that no one is taking this health risk seriously.

DW and I have started riding our bikes again, choosing routes that will see very few people. We've also purchased kayaks, so we can get even further away from people while still enjoying the great outdoors. Plus, my kayak is 12'10", which means that if someone gets too close while I'm carrying it to the water's edge, I can spin around, ensuring they come near me at their peril.

Where's that old man now?

Be safe. Stay a safe distance from others, and wear a mask to show that you care about the health of those you encounter.

And watch for the madman with the cane.