I needed to make a break for it. I had to escape the house for a little while. I took Skitter, camo wood Bow Tie o’ the Day, and my chapped lips and we drove west through Farmington—toward the Great Salt Lake, and away from human breathers. We discovered a place whose existence we had never known about before today: The George S. And Dolores Dore Eccles Wildlife Education Center at Farmington Bay. I’d like to say that it’s a groovy place. And I’d like to say Skitter and I found some fetching waterfowl to gaze upon. But I can’t say those things, cuz a bunch o’ other people were out there doing what we were trying to do, so I decided it was prudent to practice my social distancing. We will visit the actual center another time. Skitter and I had a splendid time prowling farmland on the outskirts of the center, where we were alone. We stretched our legs and breathed the lake air, and my lips got more chapped in the sun and wind. I and my chappier lips felt refreshed by our foray afield, after two weeks of staying close to home.
I felt guilty about our adventure the whole time we were on it. I kept thinking: What if I got in a wreck, and the cops and EMT’s and doctors and nurses had to waste their time attending to me just because I got a little stir crazy in the house and went on a completely unnecessary outing which ended up in an accident, while the people with COVID-19 have to wait for their important care behind my selfish self?
I know I’ll go out-and-about again, but you can rest assured I’ll feel properly guilty about it.
