COVID-19 Journal: Day 27


If you have a pen, please write to me. If you have a telephone, please ring me. If you have a bike, please invite me to ride alongside you. At the correct distance. If you're near my house, please stand outside my window and chat up to me. I'll make sure the cats don't escape out the window. If you like to walk, please ask me along. I'll keep my distance. And we'll be able to see each other's eyes and chat a little and smile and look. We'll talk about small things and get to big things maybe and spill beans because it's been so long and we'll be happy. You may cry but I doubt it. I can be quite funny and I've noticed my funny is explosive and jesterly on a Zoom if it's been a while.

Zooms are not the same. They're not bad, and I'll probably welcome it unless I'm in a shitty mood or unkempt, but they're not the same.

Not knowing when I will next be hugged is discomfiting.

I'm out of chocolate and supplies are now such that I'm in slightly random food and chicken stock mode. Yes, I could make hummus. Yes, I could make pasta, but I think I intimidated myself early on when I made a titanic lasagne when you could still have friends over. There is a niggle of Shops Fear.

My current joke (to myself) is what sorts of things are definitely not essential. Like, a Mint Magnum. Or to just get milk. Or a scotch egg.

I've stopped watching Drumpf "press briefings" because of his revolting, risible rambling, and I also heard on the radio this morning that some citizens in Detroit are having their water cut off if they can't pay the bill. I have water.

Here are my cats.

Sixty Niner