April 8, 2020

Vittoria on the CD.

Chills last night. As I lay there shuddering, I thought “this is it,” but it turns out it wasn’t, unless Covid-19 makes very odd and interrupted progress. Perhaps I was simply cold. Went to the grocery store, almost passing out because I couldn’t breathe through the scarf I used as a mask. I was ashamed looking at my meager cart behind the groaning Conestoga wagons pushed by other shoppers.

Our President grows more surreal and monstrous each day, a pathology compounded every time he opens his mouth. If I owned the TV stations, I would not broadcast his dangerously misinformed and humiliatingly self-flattering comments. He is the worst man in American history.

I may be spoiled for the rest of my life, getting accustomed at this leisurely pace, having all but no responsibilities, needing to meet no objectives but those I set for myself. Interested also in the ways public life might change. If you order alcohol online, you had to be there to sign for it when it comes. Not any more. Someone is going to realize if it doesn’t NEED to happen always, then it doesn’t ever NEED to happen. Reminds me of all the airline regulations which were hysterically enforced one day and forgotten the next.

Linda sends me pictures of frog eggs in her pond. I am consumed with envy. I think the pump makes my water move too fast, or maybe the presence of fish discourages egg-laying. I fill a steel tub with water and set it by the pond, and experiment to see who colonizes it and how soon.

Cecily gives FW a good review on Facebook.