I am having trouble marshalling my thoughts and I’m having a hard time telling my physical from my emotional sensations.
I don’t want to leave the house, but we’re going to go shopping.
I don’t want to make someone else sick. The winnowing fan hasn’t come close yet and I don’t want it to. I want to walk a golden path through this because I deserve it. I want to catch it to burn off my sins. I want to catch it to spare ones that I love, as if the virus knows that kind of math.
The math of dreams and denial; the math of a sick thought burning a furrow through my nerves.
I need sugar, and flour, and toilet paper, and I don’t know what we’re going to find at the store.
8:23 am – we shopped during the old people’s hour, and it was okay, but there is no sugar, no flour and no toilet paper.
from the Nib today…. this
