the ocean

I think it’s maybe time for me to admit that I’ve gotten a little weird during the pandemic. More so than usual, I mean.

I’ve always had some hermit-like tendencies, and now I have the excuse to indulge them. At first, I was maintaining the pretense of an outside life by calling friends, planning socially distant events, even heading outside for runs. But now it’s cold, and I spent much of the past week in my bed. It turns out I can work from bed, have my meals in bed, even post this from bed. And it’s a really comfortable bed. Presumably I’ll have to get out of it in a few weeks when the new frame arrives, but maybe I can convince them to work around me.

Also, and in conflict, my OCD habits. I don’t do well not doing anything. So while I may be physically stationary, I keep coming up with lists of things that “need” to be done. Some might say my CD collection did not necessarily need to be alphabetized and packed for storage during this time of national crisis, but those people are probably communists. And I for one found it incredibly essential that I catalogue the contents of our garage. Now if anyone comes looking for that inflatable unicorn, I know exactly where to direct them.

Social skills and normal emotional responses are also fading. On work calls I sometimes find myself unable to credibly feign interest in the weather and everyone’s health. And I am becoming inordinately upset about the delay in delivery of my stamps. It has been a week, people! How can the post office not rapidly deliver its own damn product?

Anyway, that’s the news. I know there’s a vaccine and all now, but I’m pretty sure it don’t cure crazy.