“Are you here for a COVID vaccine?” asked the young woman just inside the doors of the CVS.
”Sadly, no,” I replied, which got her to chuckle.
As I suspected, that was the reason why the pharmacy’s parking lot was full at 1 on a random Friday afternoon.
From what I could tell, once people checked in for their appointments, they followed a series of red lines taped on the floor to the back of the pharmacy, which was blocked off. At one point, I heard someone being told where to sit for 15 minutes after getting the shot, just to make sure there were no allergic reactions.
As drugstores go, this one — about 45 minutes from my house and with a testing center in a separate building out back — didn’t seem very big, and the combination of space devoted to the vaccine clinic and the additional people in the store made conditions a bit hectic.
Although it meant I guessed right on the reason for the cars, I was actually surprised to see a vaccine clinic. The CVS where I live offers tests by appointment, but not shots, and Massachusetts is moving more toward larger sites like stadiums, hotels, malls or abandoned stores as opposed to smaller, local facilities.
But, lack of space aside, I was glad to see it. Even though Suzi’s parents in Connecticut have been fully vaccinated, my parents and grandmother have gotten their first shots (a process sped up by adding local pharmacies to the large, regional sites … I’m just saying) and other friends and family have received theirs, there was something about being at a clinic that made it feel real, like vaccinations are actually happening.
Not like I’ll be getting my shots soon, between my relative youth, lack of medical conditions and not meeting any of the other eligibility requirements, which I understand. (I’m glad to see that teachers and school staff are now eligible here in Massachusetts.)
However, I do hope the “dystopian ordeal” of signing up for a shot gets sorted by the time I’m the current minimum age of 65.
I turn 49 at the end of May, so they have 16 years and not quite three months to figure it out.
WHAT I WROTE
I tend to be very particular when I order food, but there was one time when the restaurant staff took me a little too literally.
STUFF I READ
Alexia looks at the world through the eyes of her 13-year-old daughter.
Spring training baseball means glimpses of the stars, veterans trying to hold on, hotshot prospects and players who seemingly come out of nowhere. RJ writes about someone from the last group who has done pretty well for himself.
Ferrari’s struggles have her feeling like she’s being a bad friend. (I don’t know her or her friends, but I bet they’d understand.)
Having COVID has changed Renata’s relationship with food.
Sometimes, you learn things about your parents that you just don’t want to know. Michelle provides an example.
Jackie would have gone to a baseball game, but instead she wonders where the last year went.
Right after I saw Jackie’s piece, I saw this one from Rosie looking back on one year in a pandemic. Speaking of which …
Austin takes another step toward life getting back to normal.
Savannah puts a lot more thought into what she wears to go on walks than I do.
Like me, Becky thinks February took forever.
Lindsay has a little trouble getting out of the house.
Vee got stuck listening to a presentation from someone who didn’t know what she was talking about.
Jamie has suggestions for ways to rest that are more than napping or watching TV.
Zoe has learned to appreciate weekends.
TWEETS I LIKED
Lisa and I have been friends for roughly 35 years, so we were able to negotiate a compromise where she could be fine with “fine” if it’s followed by “and dandy.”
This is not me.
Married for 19 in July, no kids, but have an inkling I’ll always feel that way.
Now I’m dreaming of fireworks … .
Only on days ending in “y.”
If being a life coach is that easy, maybe I’ve found my new direction in life.
I watch the occasional odd sports highlight package — that’s what YouTube is for, after all — but this is special stuff.