4/7
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| the laundromat |
My friend Jim’s 91 year old mother died last night. He never even got so see her, to say goodbye. For the first time I think about more than my mother’s isolation. And am thankful they are imposing such tight rules. I am not prepared to not say goodbye. This is really hard on people.
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The 7 PM cheering lifts people’s spirits, help the feel connected. But I was told of a friend’s complex nearby where signs were posted saying, “Please, we are medical workers on the midnight shift. We need our sleep. Please no noise at 7.” The noise continued.
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There is this effort to shower, get dressed, have some semblance of normalcy every day. I need to star cleaning. I take a load to the laundromat. There’s a new sign.”No mask, no wash.” So I pull out my outlaw bandana and that works.
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| ready for the laundromat |
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Loved that the theatre company name for the ZOOM festival was No Pants Theatre Company, We can still smile.
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There’s an abandoned baby doll in the middle of the sidewalk. I find that poignant. And a bit unsettling. There must be a story.
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| there must be a story |
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Chalked social distance spacing for the food pantry. Glad they are open again.
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| this way to the pantry |
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Hate is not a word I use or feeling I want to hold. But Franklin Graham comes close. He makes his father Billy look like a Unitarian. My anger over his anti-lgbtq weaponization of his charity offering of tents does not subside. An evil part of me fantasizes he gets the virus and gets saved by a gay doctor.
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| word |
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