Plague Year diary March 18

Mike, safely home with my earnest thankfulness, will not be returning to Denver before the end of this year. My relief is great. He is now in the second day of his quarantine; he transferred a simply whacking amount of cash into my account from which I will draw money for his groceries and, er, other consumables, which I will then purchase and leave outside his door.

What a life.

’emergencies’ are being declared from Malaysia to Slovenia to Australia.

Gen Xers are fighting with their parents to stay the fuck home, and they’re being ignored, as the Boomer parents drive all over hells half acre and do whatever they want because the coronavirus is a big hoax, you know.

Not being able to understand the implications of exponential math is kind of a drag, eh wot?

The kids are both still working; they don’t deal with the public.

Alex’s school is now closed; the daycare, apparently, is still open. I am still without symptoms and thus prepared to step into the childcare breach.

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Born 1958. Not dead yet.

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