Tuesday, March 10, 2020

The House of a Hundred Grandmothers is under quarantine. No one but residents and workers may enter. I won’t be visiting for a while. Work today is quiet, because of the holiday, not the virus. We don’t officially have the day off, but most of the more religious workers have taken a vacation day to celebrate. Those of us at the office are even more relaxed than usual. Gossip swirls through the air about whether one worker has been quarantined and whether we should be concerned that two others were in Thailand a month ago. We don’t reach a consensus. Few of the hamantaschen that I bring in are eaten. Though the bakery where I got them makes excellent challah, these are disappointing, overly dry and with a flavorless chocolate filling. At ten to two, I set things up for afternoon prayers as usual and wait for others to arrive. No one else does. I’m not surprised. I wait for ten minutes, until the time that the service usually ends, then shut off the conference room lights, close the doors, and return to my desk.