Breathe. Live. Write.

I began prepping for this total shitshow on March 2, and I’m not even a prepper. The first thing I did was buy a thermometer and establish a median for yours truly before beginning to take my temperature several times a day. At the same time I stocked up on Tylenol-branded pain killers.

Next I headed for COSTCO to buy gloves and Lysol wipes. I didn’t see any fistfights, but the lineup for good old bumwad wasn’t short, either. I managed to get out of the place using self-checkout, where there was no lineup. I guess the olds were a little reluctant to try something new at their fave place, although I hear that’s no longer true at my own favorite bulk warehouse.

Very early on I noticed the occasional shortage of many grocery products on store shelves. That is unheard of in this country, although I have seen it in others over my lifetime. Grocery stores were sending out emails telling all and sundry who would believe them that there was no shortage of supply. That it was upstream supply chain problems. Can I get an uh-huh on that? Don’t bother. I don’t care, grocery store magnates.

Weeks later, those same stores are still sending out the same newsletters, worded differently but spouting the same bullshit. Another uh-huh, por favor.

Six days ago, on one fine morning at 0800 I drove some supplies up to relatives in a tiny town 200 kilometers (120 miles) north on Lake Huron. The route happened to take me past a COSTCO. People were lining up already – at eight in the morning! – practicing their social distancing so they could be let in, 50 at a time. Good luck with that, although there’s nothing else to do since everything has been shut down except for essential businesses. While the interpretation of “essential” is broad, it’s what was needed.

Want to know what the biggest pain in the ass about our modern world’s unprecedented times? (Welp, besides the death and destruction of the entire world’s health care systems and its users, that is.)

It’s wiping down every single thing I bring into my household so the stupid shits sneezing and coughing and breathing and the ones still alive don’t infect me!

Okay, now that that weight is off my chest (pun intended, even if you don’t get it), what am I doing with all my leisure time? You want to know, I’m certain. And even if you don’t care, here it is:

I’m watching virus movies! Thank you tubitv.

Oh, and one more thing. My writing productivity is way up. And so are downloads.

Life is good. Write on. Breathe on.

Just don’t breathe on me.

4 thoughts on “Breathe. Live. Write.”

  1. I’m sorry to hear you caught The Plague, but glad to hear there are no lasting effects. I’ve avoided it so far with trusty N95s and gloves from the very beginning and then the vaccines and their constantly moving goalposts. I keep hoping it will disappear. Unfortunately for all of us…

    What’s that, you say? Washington? I recall being trapped in a lineup to get into a bar at 6 a.m. in Bellingham, but that’s a story for another day.

    1. Yes, Washington. I’m living the quiet country life these days. Retired, enjoying the four seasons, which is a first for me. The first winter here I loved the snow. The second winter, I liked the snow. We’ll see what happens the third winter. It’s beautiful as long as I’m watching it out the living room window with a fire roaring in the fireplace, surrounded by pine trees and a giant goofball of a dog at my feet.

      Waiting for the temps to warm up a few more degrees so I can get my garden growing. I ain’t in L.A. anymore and am so happy about that.

      Where have the years gone?

      1. I am still living the good life in a small college town somewhere in Ontario. We don’t get much snow here. If we do, it usually melts away in a week or so until the next bit arrives. I’m quite happy with that. I have no complaints, other than silly things about getting older, not better. Heh. Other than that, same old same old. All in all, I have been fortunate. Life has mostly been pretty darn good, all things considered. I always wanted a dog, but a life spent traveling wouldn’t have been the best environment. Perhaps in my next life for sure. I’m glad to hear you are settled in and well. It’s nice to hear from you again. I was wondering if you were off the grid and out in the bush somewhere.

  2. As much as I tried to avoid it, the bug infected me Avoided it for a year in the shitshow that is downtown Los Angeles, but move to the country in northeast Washington and get knocked on my ass. I’m still here, though. Good as new. Except for the creaking and cracking bones that come with getting older.

    I hope you’re well.

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