Monday: Day to take the cats in to the vet for checkups, nail clips, and shots. Only it didn't quite happen that way. We'd hid the cat carriers in the shower stall and tried to lure the cats into the bathroom (where they regularly eat) with offers of a second breakfast. Maia didn't get quite in, and then Tybalt got out. So we had to chase him down, while Maia disappeared into some tiny cubbyhole somewhere.
Last year, Tybalt's reaction to being cooped up was to try to generate a small earthquake to knock the carrier down. This year, he instead issued loud and mournful cries. All the way home, too. But he didn't fool us: the vet said he'd been friendly and cooperative while they worked on him.
The vet, of course, was distanced. I parked, phoned them, they came out and took the carrier from the back seat. Reversed when they were done.
Tuesday: Day for B. to take her car in for servicing. Instead of taking the shuttle home (or waiting, unfeasible anyway as they expected a long wait), she had me pick her up, then drive her back when they were done.
After dropping her off, I drove to a couple local libraries to deposit borrowed books I was done with. Despite the "stay-at-home" order, which is actually less severe than the one back in March (the libraries are now open for pick-up and drop-off, for one thing), it didn't look much less busy on the roads or downtowns than last week. Although outdoor restaurant dining has been prohibited, the main street in downtown Mountain View is still closed off to be used as restaurant patios; I guess they're anticipating being able to use them again soon.
Wednesday: Day for us to wake up and discover our water had been turned off. And not by some joker playing with the master valve on our house, either. Nor had we received any message that this would happen, as we have a couple of previous times. After leaving messages with both the condo complex management and the city's water department, I wandered outside and found a man digging in the verge down the street. I asked him (from a safe distance) if he knew anything about the water; yes, landscapers had accidentally broken a pipe and he was fixing it. Letting residents know was apparently not on the agenda. How long would it take? About twenty minutes, he said. Four hours later, the water came on, about the same time as we got an e-mail from condo management.
This part of the world is not the home of buffoon anti-maskers like in South Dakota or Idaho, but it's bad enough with massive in-person church services (you know, God gave us remote-video technology for a reason) and big holiday parties, and worse yet, politicians violating their own strictures and going out to large fancy group dinners. Do they think they're somehow immune? In the words of Kevin S., I don't mind them risking suicide, but I don't want them to take me with them. So we're hunkering down even more than before and cutting out in-person shopping even in the slow hours: mail-order and (preferably distanced) store pickup only.