Perhaps you’ll notice I’m writing a little bit more. Wee One (WO) is about to start first grade, and, as of right now, we’re still planning to send her to school, though I think we’ve just decided to keep her online for a semester.
The Delta variant of COVID has frightened me and Cohiba, and I’m fucking furious at the maskholes and anti-vaxxers who can’t be bothered to do their civic duty and try to quash this thing.
I’m reading about long COVID and the neurological damage it can do, and am scared, but not for WO; for myself. I already have brain damage. My memory is already less than I would like. I vaguely remember days of aphasia and seizures. They suck.
And I’m afraid I’m going to lose more stories, more precious times. So I’m writing more. Trying to stop time. Because it’s.already been 24 years today.