On Saturday morning we were lining up containers of sanitizing wipes and counting our boxes of gloves, reading a 6-page list of directions from the state librarian. “Throw away inter-office envelopes instead of reusing.” But handling books someone has coughed into is still fine. Got it.
On Sunday I went to Walmart at 6:30am for birthday stuff and had a look at the panic shopping; all the grains, cereals, canned goods, and snacks were gone, but they were still stocked on baking goods, dairy, juices, and coffee. The paper aisles were bare, but the party section was full of paper plates and napkins as usual. By Sunday night, schools were canceled. My car decided to groan and die. Oh no you don’t, I am not getting trapped in a pandemic, I do not know how to steal a motorcycle yet.
On Monday the car reluctantly started and I took it to the shop early in the morning. One employee was running the place, and I was the only person drinking from the Starbucks thermoses while the battery was changed. I knitted and listened to podcasts while PANDEMIC 2020 filled the giant tv in the lounge. It was weird. By afternoon I was getting texts about an employee testing positive at Kualoa Ranch - the employee’s family member works with Mike, and the kids of ranch employees go to my mother’s school. The testing station was inundated and had to turn people away, they’re still waiting on the first wave of results while asymptomatic dumbasses like me are sneaking to Walmart and hanging out in the VW service center.
It’s Tuesday, and the governor just announced that the libraries are closed. It doesn’t even matter because I took vacation leave anyway - today my girl turns SEVEN.
This kid is lawful neutral. She’d be lawful good if she were sweeter, but she’d lock you out of the bunker to save the group. She might send someone out to get what’s left of you later, though. She is quick to laugh, but sharply aware of insult, and she’ll stomp away to be by herself if she’s mad. She‘s a benevolent enforcer - everyone gets a portion before we eat, everyone takes a turn - but she’ll think hard and ask for an explanation if the rules don’t seem right. She reads Calvin and Hobbes in the car, and lays on my arm while we read a chapter of Harry Potter every night. She is more sociable than I am, quicker to hug, easy to cuddle up to. She hates blood - even the word blood - but she tries to hide it. She’s smart and funny, and I love her so much. I look forward to her growing out of the knock-knock jokes, though.
And while all this has been happening, I painted an iron horse. “I need a meaningful object,” I told my mother, snooping around her cabinets. The iron horse with the tiny leather saddle is not a meaningful object, but it’s an object I am inexplicably attracted to and always trying to steal. So I painted it. There, it’s mine now.
This kid is lawful neutral. She’d be lawful good if she were sweeter, but she’d lock you out of the bunker to save the group. She might send someone out to get what’s left of you later, though. She is quick to laugh, but sharply aware of insult, and she’ll stomp away to be by herself if she’s mad. She‘s a benevolent enforcer - everyone gets a portion before we eat, everyone takes a turn - but she’ll think hard and ask for an explanation if the rules don’t seem right. She reads Calvin and Hobbes in the car, and lays on my arm while we read a chapter of Harry Potter every night. She is more sociable than I am, quicker to hug, easy to cuddle up to. She hates blood - even the word blood - but she tries to hide it. She’s smart and funny, and I love her so much. I look forward to her growing out of the knock-knock jokes, though.
And while all this has been happening, I painted an iron horse. “I need a meaningful object,” I told my mother, snooping around her cabinets. The iron horse with the tiny leather saddle is not a meaningful object, but it’s an object I am inexplicably attracted to and always trying to steal. So I painted it. There, it’s mine now.
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