Day whatever into COVID pandemic. I don’t care what day it is anymore. In fact, for the most of the day, I thought it was Thursday and the only reason I came back to reality is that I got a notification on my cell to pick up the wine which I knew I scheduled for Friday. Everything is blurred and merged together to the point of the world becoming a two-dimensional space. The outside is merged with the inside and feels just as claustrophobic, my dog merged into me as we are together 24/7. Nothing else seems to exist, just walks, reading, and occasional running. I am currently on vacation cooped up inside/outside in a city of thousands. I long for social contact to the point that today on a walk I talked to every person 6 feet away from me: “Cute dog,” “Cute baby,” “I love your sweater,” etc. I did it just to remember that I can actually talk. Yes, things a bit depressing. And I was doing so well for the most part of this stay in shelter thing. I do art though. Keeps me sane and feeds the brain with things other than this pandemic and shitty political situation. I feel like we should all prepare for another 4 years of asinine ruler who is unstoppable. I feel helpless and that angers me more than anything else. I should start drinking and stay drunk for another four years. FaceTime does not help anymore as no one has anything to say anymore because the toilet paper is back in stores. Occasionally I try to remind myself just how lucky I actually am. I have a steady paycheck, I work from home which means I work 3 or 4 hours and the rest is spent walking or running or reading or doing art. And I know I won’t lose my job. I only work 4 days a week but get paid for 5. Some deal with State government that fell into University’s lap. They actually make more money furloughing their employees for one day a week. With this deal, my paycheck is bigger because of the unemployment benefits for that one day. Good for them — good for me. Too bad it will end on July 31. I have a roof over my head. And it’s a beautiful roof. I love my townhouse. The most love I have is for the garage that makes life so much drier in this wet state. I am fairly healthy. I am strong (thank you, palates!) and I can run and walk 15 miles a day. I can afford any food I like and copious amounts of wine which sometimes I start drinking at 2 pm because I am an adult and can do whatever I want. I can even afford to support my sister in Belorussia financially. People would kill for a situation like mine, especially now in this time of layoffs and uncertainty. All these reminders help to get things in perspective. But yet still all other bad things creep into my mind. It’s like a leaky faucet. Drop by drop. But drop by drop can make a river and I think I finally started to drown. I should bake bread like the rest of the country and post in on Instagram because if it’s not on social media it did not happen. Besides, then people can compare their just as anxious lives to mine — the after-effect of looking into bits of someone else’s life without realizing that those bits are heavily curated. Incredulously I feel better by the end of this post and this is how I should end it — on a high note.
