We have a new calendar
The day of the week no longer matters. I could, at this point, easily shift to five day week. Or one of twenty. As long as we arrive at the solstice, all together, life will go on. I mean, the planet has been doing this for a very long time, and calling something Monday doesn’t make it so.
That said, this is day two of our isloation, and with it came the required nose probe. With a home test kit, no less. I’m still a menber of the negative team. Looking forward to rejoining societ,y in my own. particular “stay at home and wait to win the lottery, without purchasing a ticket” manner that has got me this far along my personal timeline. If you don’t hear from me very much, don’t take it persona;;y.
I didn’t check the news; did anything happen. Didn’t check the mailbox, either. I made a quick basement visit, to reset my comms receivers. Checked the sump pump and the heat pump. On that level, life is normal. Now, I’m keen to go (back) to bed. Comfortable. Low key. There is a new calendar on the fridge, and a whole lot of photos of people I don’t know. Seriously. Who are those children? Just to suppress rumours, they really aren’t family members. Real strangers (to me). Someone should add name tags.
Maybe it’s time to search for a forgotten tub of ice cream Or some fresh fruit. Dietary supplements, since supper is already done and put away. On TV, Xmas contnues, thanks to the fine folks at Hallmark. Seems as if every low-budget drama with saturated colours has found a niche market. Do people still send greeting cards? I feel like I’ve lost track of what passes for surreal life, out there. Oh, a young man from Boston. I’m back on track.
