It’s time to stop counting. As of right now, I’m no longer counting how many day I’ve been in isolation. The whole thing is moot, and honestly, more than a little morbid. In the early days when we really had no concept of how long this would go on it made a kind of sense? It was almost a gamification of the pandemic, like bragging about endurance or flexing over the sacrifices being made. This no longer feels like a sacrifice. It never really did, to me, because I like being a hermit. This is a new normal for some, but this has been the normal I’ve been chasing for years.
Besides, the world has gotten bored and moved on. No one was wearing masks or practicing social distancing anyway. There’s this blasé “if it kills me it kills me” thing going on in the United States, coupled with the “if it’s God’s will” stuff that creeps me out. Everything’s all race riots now. I should make some anti-police graphics and tags and blog about that now. (I’m not. I won’t).
It’s Time to Stop Counting
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