Well well well. This Sunday morning, the sun is shining and birds are chirping and we are fine. Not emotionally, not psychically. I'm tired of living in a constant state of emergency. But physically, materially, we are fine. Twice this week I stayed up way too late with a go-bag packed and my helmet at the ready, riding out the possibility of tornadoes. Last night it turned out that flooding was the far greater concern, and a lot of people are under water this morning. All I know is I'm never going to complain about walking up the steep hill we live on, ever again.
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| Just because you can, doesn't mean you should |
Hello, it's me.
"Strange hands, inquisitive hands, dirty hands. Touching, feeling, examining the things you buy in stores”. What paranoias will linger, what innovations and new habits will stick around, for better or for worse? I, for one, want to bring back comically wide hoop skirts that enforce a 6 foot personal space perimeter around myself at all times.
Analog Reading:
Finished Nomadland by Jessica Bruder. Boy we need a lot of social reforms in this country so people can live, work, and ultimately retire with dignity.
Still plodding through Winter Pasture by Li Juan. It's wonderful, but it's so tranquil and, well, pastoral, that every time I start reading it in bed at night, I fall asleep within 2 pages.
Started The Life of the Mind by Christine Smallwood. It's bleak but relatable. In fact, I read a solid half of it in one day, most of it by the light of a headlamp because our power went out for a couple hours during Saturday night's storms.
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