Complex Numbers

Dream Vacation

Yeah, yeah, just give me a few minutes to set this up first...

PROMPT May 13th

Writing Sprint! Set a timer for 10 minutes and write without stopping about whatever comes to your mind. I challenge you to deny your urge to edit yourself as you write. If you must, you’re allowed to edit, but only after you finish your ten minute sprint. Ready? Set. GO!

I went for a walk today around the neighborhood.

For, I don't know, six weeks? Seven? I'm starting to understand why some people think time is an illusion. Anyway, for nearly two months, I only left my property to take the trash can and recycling bins to the curb, and replace them the next day. My gym has been closed, and there's nothing else open, and I probably wouldn't go anywhere even if something was open. But I started walking again on Sunday.

It's not -- and a lot of people don't seem to get this -- about me getting sick. I made peace a long time ago, or at least I think I did, with the idea that I could get sick and/or die without warning. No, it's about not getting other people sick, like my housemate who's actively working as an epidemiologist. From home.

Fortunately, I have a decent-sized house and we each have our own area. We get along, and I like to keep it that way. So I've been staying home, and she's been staying home, and we each get groceries delivered. And beer and wine. Still no liquor delivery here, but I have a decent stash. Which of course means that other people get to risk themselves and their friends and family on my behalf. I'd feel bad about it, but it's kind of like, well, I might as well enjoy my privilege while I have it.

Unlike some people, I haven't lost track of the days of the week. Weekends are still weekends. Monday night is Trash To The Curb Night. Thursdays are "Support My Local Brewpub" Day, where I order food and beer (for delivery) from my favorite beer manufacturer. Fridays are my normal days for judging a contest here on WDC. I can tell the other days of the week from those. I only wish the weather would have been warmer. It's May for fuck's sake; we shouldn't have nighttime temperatures dipping into the 30s. Why does this matter when I'm just staying at home? Well, I said I didn't leave my property, not that I don't like to sit on my deck.

But my itch to travel grows stronger. The housemate is looking at buying her own house -- good for her -- so my almost-free cat care when I'm gone won't be around much longer.

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And that's it. I didn't really plan on writing The Covid Diaries, because everyone else is doing it, but what the hell, it's what came to mind. And only minimally edited after the timer went off, so I probably didn't catch everything. At least I was sober for it. What I didn't mention is that, apart from not being able to go to the gym or bars or the cinema, this isn't much different from my life in the Before Times, and I don't expect it to change much when things reopen at some point in the distant future.

But I still want to get back to traveling.