Unraveling

I have become a third world country. What does that mean? My life is rimmed around a definite high each day & I get to choose what it might be: A morning walk, a sunny place to sit, a terrific book to be lost within… I take my bags to the market to fill & since they are infected with Covid, I get to do this myself. I could probably take the world record in holding my breath in time to grab a few things at the market. (Can’t even get into the only other grocery in town – which is Walmart – with the lines & what not. Thanks, China! In so many ways, thanks! I find it interesting that my bags carry the virus & my face: not my hands sifting among avocados, not my jacket which l has brushed up against all kinds of possible hosts, etc. You know that rant could go on for a couple of days.

I get to choose from my five or six winter outfits – an exciting moment! I am not permitted to buy any other clothing which cannot be acquired from my [Chinese] Walmart; thus supporting the overt providers of Covid. Interestingly, I am not hearing of gigantic death numbers from the virus in China. Did they flatten the curve?

I am singled at work for not wearing a mask. The fact that I find it very difficult to breathe or do quality work while wearing one – that my clients give me permission to not wear one – that they themselves feel put upon forced to wear a mask on a massage table where they must breathe deeply for maximal benefit rendered irrelevant by conflicts of science & con-science.

I am tired of seeing Fauci’s face. His Hitler salute is not a raised arm, but an index finger pointed upward as he calls the shots for my life. I read Switzerland is doing fine, South Dakota is doing fine… Herd immunity is proved out. Statistics are down (even the CDC says so) but for whatever reason, I wear a mask to every store. Which amounts to the few open here in town – Chinese Walmart, Chinese Family Dollar & Chinese Dollar Store plus a couple all-American hardware posts.

I am wearing down. I hate to say it. I dislike admitting defeat. I miss our small businesses. I miss being able to eat a meal I did not prepare myself. Last night I didn’t even have dinner & infrequently in my life have I gone to bed without dinner like some truant. I miss friends, entertainment, the occasional movie, drives to nearby old West towns to spend my dollars on postcards. I have put about 400 miles on my car since March – an invitation to an oil change had me laughing as I tossed it.

I’m done with conflicting news, one source telling me I’m dead so just lie down already, another telling me I live in Jesus, a third assuring me the Pleiadians are en route in answer to my thumb stuck out over the horizon of Earth, a fourth to say the Pleiadians are sitting to one side watching “the show” & unwilling/unable to help. Pleiadian Uber?

I will live as long as I live & no longer. It is up to me to make these days reactive or passive. I think of it as “clapping for Tinkerbell” where she will fade from existence without applause (a cheap crowd participation trick.) I am down to one hand clapping.

I want to get back into gear. I want to tend my volunteer duties, travel at will & with a way, get a definitive reply when I reach out – because it seems as things have slowed down, no one is keeping up.

Nothing is normal & I want some semblance of that back!