Covid and Dinnerly
The Dinnerly saga may be over. This week's edition has been resolved. We received our weekly Wednesday box on Thursday night at 8:15. The ice had long melted and the interior of the box was at 56 degrees. There were three packs of beef in it and I'm thinking I'll cook all three today since their storage life can't be long. If it were chicken I'd just throw it out. Of course, I wrote Dinnerly and cancelled all my future deliveries as I think through the choices. I REALLY like having three meals delivered. It saves money and covid exposure time.
I had a call back for potential covid vaccine testing. There is a testing lab a couple of hours from us that might be setting me up for a trial. Which would me, I think, that I get the test early, am verified that the antibodies are working, and will be paid for it. Of course since nothing has actually happened all those are suppositions about which I'm unsure but if I can contribute I will. If I have to get paid for it, I'll tolerate the situation.
And so now the great debate about who gets shot first. Previous paragraph aside I'd happily give my place in line to someone younger. It would mean that I continue in self imposed lock down (which I would anyway) and be very careful likely for another year about being in places and/or interacting with individuals who might have covid (which I would anyway). I'm all for getting the publicly congregating herd vaccinated first. Only one problem. They won't get the vaccine. The people who are the most dangerous to me and more so, my wife, are the ones who think that covid is a hoax and who think that vaccines are unsafe and unnecessary.
There's the problem. I know that covid is real. I know that vaccines work and are safe. And I know that the idiots who believe everything about this up to and including death is a hoax will eventually breath in my space during an unguarded moment and kill me. Or my wife. Or both of us.
Which means that we get first in line. The math people and the doctors will agree and we'll be safer. I'll feel on a little guilty.