But in all the confusion, it slipped into April 1.
It’s time for the April fool jokes to happen, though anything like that, in this current climate of a pandemic, could not be excused as ‘I only wanted to cheer people up’.
If you wanted to do that, they could find a cure for this virus.
So, if you had asked me even a month ago how I would be feeling right now, it would be nothing like what I feel now.
It’s not something that I have felt in a long time and never expected to for another 10 years at least, because I always thought I’d get to 75 at least.
That’s all out the window. If I get the coronavirus, it’s going to be interesting. I have underlying issues, not life-threatening if there was no virus, but, with the virus, well, this is not the time to go there.
Nor would I have thought that it would be strongly suggested I didn’t leave home unless I had a very good excuse. Like buying food, Sadly, we did not join all the other panic buyers and hoard, we still have to make a weekly shop. Then there are the medicines, but that’s once every three to four weeks.
What am I complaining about?
There’s now plenty of time to write, time to do that gardening, time to do a few repairs around the house, time to talk to your significant other, and time to torture the car.
Perhaps the last one holds some appeal, or perhaps it’s the other way around.
There’s time to read, too, and I have a library of over 3,000 books. The problem is I can’t make up my mind what to read first.
So much time, so hard to make a decision.
Instead, I watch the COVID 19 statistics continually updating, looking for signs its abating. There are none, 805,000 cases, and 39,654 deaths just ticked over.
I keep hearing the worst is yet to come.
It’s just one 1 am here, so I think I’ll go to bed. Things have to be better tomorrow.