Incubation Blues

Day 2 of the Shutdown

Up again early. The stillness is spooky.

It feels like I’m in prison. A prison of circumstances beyond my control.

I like being in control. And I am not.

The gym is closed, so I will need to figure out a strength-training regimen to do here in the house. But not today. Tomorrow maybe…

I can still go on walks if I am careful to not get downwind from a puffing jogger.

I envision bursts of tiny infectious blobs pulsating from the few people who also brave the beach trail. Or even worse: in the aisles of the supermarket where virus particles no doubt emanate like speech bubbles from every milk-egg-and-toiletpaper-hoarding fellow zombie shopper.

Yesterday made it clear. I’m an addict. I didn’t know to what extent.

I am addicted to experiencing life in groups of people. I am addicted to action, activity, and visible, tangible enterprise.

Who knew?

I always used to joke that I could have been a monk or nun in a previous life — I like to be alone that much. The things we tell ourselves… jeez…

I have canceled my work and cleared my schedule. And although I now work from home, the lack of physical closeness and interaction with others feels like a…