Inner Doodles

As we now get closer to the two-month mark, I wish I could say things are stabilizing. We remain as lost and detached as ever. Floating in a void that is this new planet with all emotions living on the edges of our sleeves. Fraying and escalating at the slightest prompt. Simple commands like, "Eat your peas," cause an eruption like never before. News such as, "High winds and possible power outages," leaves me limp. I pull the blanket tighter and refuse to get out of bed until there are only minutes left before I need to make myself presentable to the Zoom world. These logs are starting to loop and repeat as do the days. Monotony is the new rhythmic norm. Chief Mate shakes me from my spiral. "Let's go outside!" I don't hesitate. Not for a second. Chalk in hand, we draft tags. Keep calm and chalk on. END TRANSMISSION

I'm starting to get used to the oscillating weather. And I do love the way the rain shimmers on the kelly-green leaves. Rain or shine, I make my way outside now. If the animals can do it in their fur, I can grab an umbrella. I met a man on my walk. We had a conversation. A real live conversation. His image didn't glitch out. His voice didn't warble or chop itself into bits. We spoke and the sound waves traveled directly through the air from one person to the other. From six feet away. When it ended he gave me the most quizzical look and we each went on our way. Human contact. Interaction with people is rare these days. I'm afraid to have a conversation in the grocery store. Go in, collect needed items, go out. Don't dawdle. Don't breath on anyone. Only get what's on the list. Except for those windmill cookies. And the key lime pie. I don't feel human in the store. Everyone is plastic wrapped in their own little bubble and there is no human contact. Eve...