I had to go out today. Well, I mean, I didn’t but I did. I went to CVS with Terry to get prescriptions and while I was there I might have bought $40 worth of candy, that I then totally wiped down and sterilized as soon as I got home, then repeated the procedure on myself.
After this, if there is an after this, if I ever see a goddamn baby wipe that isn’t being used to wipe a fucking baby I am going to make it scream in pain like the ashen palms of my hands are screaming as we speak.
A weird sentence I know.
You will note the longer I am in the same house with my children I will become more and more prolific in my writing until a point where I cannot promise that food and water will be as important to me as the tactile orgasm of this little wireless keyboard I have sitting on top of the dead keyboard on this busted ass laptop.
I love my children and them being home is not the issue, not at all. Shit, if you know me at all you know I keep[ my Ducks home too much rather than the other way around. No, the issue is that it is all forced like this.
Now I am not saying we should leave the house, because fuck and that, #StayTheFuckHome.
No, I agree with all of the restrictions if it keeps my Ducks even the most minute amount safer during all of this. Yes, it is inconvenient and annoying to everyone. Yes, I know we are in an economic tailspin, but how are we supposed to be not those things if enough of us get this thing where it is 30, 40, 50 percent unemployment for two decades until the age gap closes again?
I am drinking too much coffee, emotionally eating way too much food and going to bed too late and not getting a lick of sleep until way too early in the morning. It makes for long days, trying days, annoying days.
However, I, like many of you, know someone who has to work in all of this chaos. I know nurses who I cannot imagine are anything short of both terrified and fucking superheroes. Mothers who are so scared they are brave, fathers who are trying everything they can to assuage fears they feel just as strongly.
It can always get fucking worse.
Or, if you are of a slightly Jesus tilt, just remember the old adage. “There but for the Grace of God, go I.” Savor the sweet moments, be strong through the roughest waves, be kind and compassionate to those who do not have the ability to sit at home and work and, most importantly.
Remember this was, at least in part, avoidable and get your ass out to the polls in November, even if you do have to be six feet apart still.
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