Hey all, so I had a late dinner tonight—what did I have? Oh, a stir-fry thingie that I made with the fresh broccoli I was forced to buy a week ago—which is normally what I do, buy fresh produce, but being it’s a pandemic and everything, all the doomsday freaks cleaned out the frozen and canned and boxed goods, so all that was left basically was fresh—which means I’m gonna be one of the first who starves to death, because none of my food has a shelf life longer than a week—like that broccoli I was talking about was going all flaccid (who likes saying flaaaaccid really slow and deliberate, by the way, raise your hand!!!👋 me!me!me!!!) and needed to be eaten like right now, which I did, with some rice, thanks for asking, and even have some leftovers for at least a few more meals, and shared some with my dog who has totally come to expect this food-sharing thing to happen every time I eat which seems to be rather frequently lately, to the point where he’s not eating his regular food all the time, funny how quickly and amiable he’s adjusting to this odd new world, and he also demands dog/state park runs twice a day because around the block isn’t good enough any more, which is probably okay, because there are way fewer people and way more space between those of us at the parks than there are on the streets around here (though I just have to say that I’m the one who quickly crosses the street when I encounter someone on the same block, not only because my dog can be kind of an asshole on a leash, but also to be considerate, okay—but get this: this one dude this morning quickly yanked a face mask up A BLOCK AWAY FROM ME, LIKE I WAS FULL OF DISEASE, EVEN THOUGH OUR BLOCKS ARE HUGE AROUND HERE AND I WAS THE ONE WHO MADE THE THOUGHTFUL PREEMPTIVE STRIKE TO CROSS OVER, NOT HIM—pfft. whatever, dude); I did get kinda pissed at the guy at the park whose dog stole Rocco’s frisbee, who had the nerve to bring it back to me WITH HIS OWN HANDS (the man, not the dog)—WHO EVER DOES THAT KIND OF THING ANY MORE, I thought, and in my head I started yelling, WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING TOUCHING MY DOG’S FRISBEE THEN HANDING IT BACK TO ME??!! HOW GODDAMNED SELFISH AND RECKLESS ARE YOU ANYWAY? But, in reality, I just took the frisbee in my mittened hand (holy crap it’s been cold these past few days, huh? makes me sad for all the little buds pushing out from branch tips and green spikes spearing up through dead leaves, I hope they’ll do okay), thanked him and talked to his cute little black lab in the high-pitched voice that always happens when I talk to dogs, and probably should have stuck the frisbee and my mittens in an unused poop bag, tied it up tight and thrown everything in the wash when I got home, but it didn’t even occur to me to take it that far because learning how to live in a pandemic isn’t the most natural thing in the world to do, but we’re all trying really damn hard to do what we gotta do to get through these bizarre times, right? But it’s taking a toll on us, I can already feel it, in my body, in the energy buzzing though the air. And let’s be real: we’re all gonna need some refresher classes in social graces and interpersonal communication and maybe a few in how to repair relationships with lovers and strangers, when this shit blows over. And probably haircuts. xo!