Yesterday was a little less intense than ax throwing or even making decorating decisions. We checked out of the Fairfield and into a Courtyard for our final night of this major road trip, leaving my wife’s sports car tucked away in my son’s garage for the next four months. It will next take us to The Florida Keys and more pampering by Mother Marriott. This morning we board a flight back to Portland, hoping to continue to avoid any interference from the Coronavirus. We’ve been in some risky situations considering its prevalence in South Florida. The beach, for example, was very busy today, but we were able to keep our distance, as has been the case dining-out with our family of seven.
My son is in the restaurant business and very concerned with cleanliness, mask-wearing, and symptoms. He’s got the dubious job of checking and testing his employees daily in an at-risk environment, and has become quite knowledgeable about this health threat. We’re hoping he can get out of the fire and into something less stressful to earn a living. My wife and I will get tested when we get back home so we’re not a concern to those around us, including a daughter who is struggling with a broken leg.
In the interest of time, this morning’s run was the minimum mile, the first I’ve strayed away from the routine 5k in three months. My legs undoubtedly need a one-day rest, but it will be difficult to get-in my daily 10,000-step goal. We’ll have to use the Metro (train & trolley) or Uber for the first time in months to get home from the airport, another risky move that will require additional gallons of sanitizer. My car has been patiently sitting in our parking garage waiting for action for nearly three weeks. We’ll have to rely on one car to get us around for the next six months. It will be the first time in our marriage where we’ll share a single vehicle.