Day 11

Today marked a turning point of sorts for Jane and me, a simple acceptance that we're in this for the long haul ... and that there's nothing we can do to change things.

For me, life looks a lot like it usually does. I am an extreme introvert and am accustomed to spending weeks at home without going anywhere in a car. I've learned over many years how to be with myself comfortably and quietly. I don't get bored, I clean house instead. I don't get lonely, I make art instead. I don't need to see people in real life, I meet them online, just like I have for the past 15 or so years.

The extroverts I know, including the one I'm married to, are having a harder time. They're asking if their plan to see someone is safe (it isn't) and they're on the phone most of the day, connecting in ways I never dreamed of. It takes all kinds, apparently.

The quietude surrounding me would be mostly pleasant except for the fact that it's been caused by a global pandemic. As you know from the news, the US response has been spectacularly miserable. Everything Donald F. Trump says and does makes the situation worse ... more risky, more uncertain ... than if he would just kept his ugly mouth shut. He gives us happy talk instead of testing kits, lies instead of rubber gloves, death instead of ventilators.

Here in North Carolina, things are better because of the decisive action Roy Cooper has taken, no thanks to our two Senators who are in full ass-covering mode. There's nothing Tillis and Burr won't lie about. The GOP propaganda machine is now floating the idea that older people should sacrifice themselves for the good of the economy. Death panels coming soon to a hospital near you.

If you're an extrovert, you have my sympathies. It's gotta be hard. But to my introvert friends, be gentle. Our best move is to simply continue to be how we usually are, serving as role models for those who don't know what to do with themselves.

PS The attached picture is a piece of art I created over the past few days. I call it Covid 273.