Mandate: Stay at Home

One week after the initial explosion from Mt St Helens in May 1980, geologists predicted another eruption was imminent. Given the direction of the wind that morning, the Thurston County Sheriff announced a shutdown until further notice. As cooperative residents of Olympia, we did exactly as we had been told. We filled the bathtub with water. We put throw rugs at the base of the exterior doors.

Then I sat in the rocking chair and looked out the living room picture window. I waited for the show to begin. Never did. Yakima got dumped on again instead of Olympia.

Funny thing about this current shelter-in-place command is that I made the same move. Must be instinct. I haven’t practiced this step in 40 years. I plopped myself in the living room and stared out the front window.

No cars driving down Slater Lane. I watched two squirrels chase each other. I heard a bird building a nest in the gutter just above the front door.

At that moment I heard a crash in the basement. No shout, just a crash. I hurried down the stairs. When I turned the corner I saw Judi smiling at me.

“Got your attention,” she said. She was laughing the likes I hadn’t heard in a while. I looked on the floor in front of her. It was the bin we use with the quilt tops waiting for me to quilt on the longarm machine. The crash I heard was intentional.

“Yes,” I said, “you got me. When I didn’t hear ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’ I assumed it was really serious.”

“This is serious,” she said. “You’re behind in your work.” She pointed to the bin. “There are thirteen quilt tops just waiting for some love from you.”

“But … but …” She interrupted my protest.

“Yes, I know you’ve been busy. I realize it is difficult for musicians go count past four, so I did the heavy lifting — that’s not novel, is it? We’ve completed 65 charity quilts already in 2020. That’s good. And you’ve had pudding much more often so far this year. Am I right?”

I opened my mouth to respond. She kept talking.

“When you get done with the 13 in the bin we’ll have 78. Guess what?” She didn’t wait for my guess. “Today is day 78 in 2020. As long as we’re confined to the house, we’re going to average one quilt a day until this thing is over. Got it?”

“Wait,” I said, “I read this morning that on Monday the federal government released a projection that we may be in for a roller coaster ride for the next 18 months. What you’re saying is that it’s a quilt a day for the next year and a half?”

“Yep,” she replied. “I did the calculation. That’s almost 550 quilts for Project Linus and Project Warm Embrace.”

So, folks, by federal mandate I’m staying home. By decree I’m in the dungeon … er, basement.