Pan. Dem. Ic.
It's on my mind, is the thing. As is, of course, what to do about it.
We've learned that airborne virus molecules in indoor public places are the biggest risk for COVID infection, but that the virus molecules are, to use the science term, "chonky": really big so that they'd be stopped by many masks that still allow you to breathe. And that, it looks like, surface contamination seems less likely.
But I've spent six months getting very used to washing and rewashing things and, for instance, semi-regularly disinfecting my phone, which was not my habit before all this and heck, isn't my regular habit now, but...that's, again, apparently less likely to get me sick. (Though all that washing didn't prevent a summer cold I had a couple of months ago, grr. At least it wasn't COVID.) For instance, I was putting much of my mail in a bag next to my bedroom door, and let it wait before I handled it, but mail is a low-risk vector, too. So I'm trying not to do that. I'd put library books and DVDs aside for two or three days before handling them. Now, not doing that. I was stowing my reusable shopping bags for days in a corner of my closet before using them again. Again, not.
And I'm nervous about not doing that.
By loosening up, am I correctly adjusting to a new-new normal, following a new normal? Am I taking acceptable risks? Am I taking unacceptable risks? Maybe I'll know two weeks from now. Or two weeks from, say, last Sunday, when I most recently drove.
I'm watching my health, I think and hope, very carefully. Watching for signs of picking up something ill-ish. Nipping any possible illness, I hope, in the bud. Masking when I go out of the house farther than to bring in the trash, compost and recycling bins. And trying to keep from getting bored.