Ugh, Steph, so sorry. A co worker of my roommate tested positive and she was in contact but not close contact. So she’s supposed to get rapid tested today and again in a few days.

I'm marginally annoyed at Tim, who decided he'll get a Covid test, but tomorrow, because he didn't want to be late to work. I said, "You're getting the Covid test BECAUSE OF work; they fucking well shouldn't object to you being late because of that!" But no, he'll get it tomorrow. I resisted the urge to whack him upside the head, but barely.

I am Team Today Sucks.

Today sucks the biggest hairiest balls.

Today sucks the biggest hairiest balls.

Con-fucking-firmed.

(I have more caffeine and a cupcake, because fuck today.)

I am sorry for everyone else's shittastic Mondays; mine hasn't exactly been fabulous (drove to the East Bay for one last trip to my dad's house to pick up a few salvageable knickknacks before the entire place is emptied out and stripped to the studs, and I have just compartmentalized all my feelings about never seeing that house again into a little lockbox in the back of my brain, to be opened at some later date yet to be determined, and then spent an hour on the bridge coming home because of a multi-motorcycle injury crash, but for a Monday in 2020 it doesn't seem all that unusual) but that's nothing compared to the complete asshattery of Tim's coworker. All digits crossed for extremely boring test results.

I would definitely be up for a Nilly Zoom.

Awww, Cindy, that palate-cleanser!

Long ago, when I had a rabbit and a cat, the cat was terrified of the rabbit but also deeply confused by him. He was a big bun and she was a small cat, so when they were up close and personal they were almost exactly the same size. However, she was not a terribly bright cat and could never remember this. So she'd spend her days slowly, murderously stalking this thing at the other end of the yard that smelled like juicy prey. Except the closer she got to the prey, the bigger the prey got and the more deeply she was consumed by self-doubt, so her stalk would get slower and slower and more and more tentative every few inches.

Worse still, he'd been constantly cuddled and skritched and babied since he was a wee bun, so he had absolutely no fear of anything and instead had a very un-rabbit-like confidence that nothing in the world intended him harm, that every other creature on the planet was there to give him treats and joy. So he smelled like prey, but he didn't act like prey. And he got bigger and more alarming with every step, so at some point within about a yard of him she would freak right out and bolt for the other end of the yard to get away from this abnormally large thing that acted all wrong.

After a few minutes at the other end of the yard, she'd get a fresh whiff of him and notice how very small he looked from a distance, and the whole thing would start all over again. We tried to keep them separated to spare her the mental torture, but she was also a really mean little cat who bit and clawed and hated being picked up, so to be honest we didn't try very hard.

Where do archived threads live?

Largely a hermit by nature, covid restrictions have been less hard for me than for others. I don't have to show up at work every day. DH is hyperactive so sending him on grocery runs or other necessary errands is what we do--masked, gloved, and armed with sanitizer or wipes. I offered a supersoaker with disinfectant to keep people at safe distance, but he declined. At least so far. He masks up when a neighbor needs help with his computer, or a repair on the porch steps, or the door hinge. I wasn't a gadfly before, so that hasn't been a big change. I do miss visiting, both other people at their home, and here at ours. We do the middle of the street conversation with neighbors, all safely distanced. Some neighbors go masked on their walks around the block. We have a mandatory mask in public places notice from the governor, and there are relatively few maskless rebels, at least locally. We don't mask in the car, but the few appointments I had to keep I masked, as does DH.

It's still onerous to *have* to comply. I miss hugging people I haven't seen for a while. I miss sharing jokes in a group and clutching at each other laughing. I miss congregating on someone's porch for drinks or wine and conversation. It's not like not getting to see your kids--well it is, but mine is a continent away anyway, so not much has changed there. I'm lucky to be here where people apparently haven't lost their minds. But it's still isolating and lonely, and I want it over.

So much love and sympathy for those having lost people, or who might be losing people, and for those trying to plan safe alternative holidays without their beloveds. Internet hugs sounds very inadequate, but it's heartfelt, and it's what I got.

Monday, Monday.

When I go to the store for a supply run for work and cannot find disinfectant or toilet paper, I feel like such a failure.

Darlings, please give yourselves grace over difficulty with formerly ordinary things. Yes, you truly can't even. The pandemic in and of itself - not taking into account actually getting sick or losing a loved one - is a trauma. So we are all experiencing trauma. And then we are grieving. We are struggling with other tough stuff. We have other health challenges. We have other family problems. We have crushing pressure from wanting to save the world.

We ARE traumatized. It is ok to not be ok. If there are days when all you can do is breathe, and getting out of bed or being productive in other way just is not going to happen, that is ok.

JZ, that's such a cute story about your rabbit and your cat.

I had a rabbit too, Harvey. He lived in a hutch outside during the nice months, which we brought into the closed in porch, in the winter. He had a habit of getting out of his hutch though, which was a problem during the summer.

One day he got out and was hopping around the yard. Our cat stayed about a dozen feet behind him, but she wasn't stalking him. She seemed to be standing guard, because this was not regular order. When we arrived home, Harvey was in the little garden next to the driveway, and our cat was giving us the dirtiest looks over her shoulder, as if to say, "You need to do something about this, now!"

So we are all experiencing trauma.

Global trauma, which means that every single person we interact with is also experiencing trauma. Humanity is a giant mess of trauma right now, barely held together with chocolate, Netflix, and Zoom calls.

I figure those of us from dysfunctional families finally get our chance to shine.

I figure those of us from dysfunctional families finally get our chance to shine.

Ahahahaha!!! This just made me do my loud donkey laugh. (I *knew* I was keeping this C-PTSD around for a reason!)