I fell off there for a while. 15 days. I had a minor out-patient procedure which resulted in three blown veins (for the IV) and one minor panic attack and a clean bill of health. And a whole weekend of sleeping.

That's not why I stopped taking notes, however.

But I fell off chronicling how things are because--if you'd noticed--there's little to chronicle. Aside from that one trip to the hospital, I don't leave the house except to walk in the park or sit in the yard. Spouse runs the errands; picks up the take-out. Zoom hangouts are nothing to write home about.

I'm doing postcards to voters but I'm not volunteering. I'm making my phone calls. But I have no insight; no power; no unique take. We're mostly unaffected--no changes to our employment; no illness in our families; no child we're trying to shepherd through trauma. And my own thoughts are simplistic: I'm bored; I'm frustrated; Everything is unreal; I'm frightened.

I laugh and enjoy things with the Spouse or on chats with the friends. I feel strange when things seem normal. I can't wrap my head around the banality of work in this context. I have no hope and periodically we look at ways to leave the country. We have enough money (assuming out money retains any of its current value) but we have no rights to live in another country and we're too old to be attractive as immigrants. I have few marketable skills. It's truly frightening at times.

10/6 '20