So, here it is, April and I plan to write a lot. One more month until my birthday. Well, a little more than a month. I love the month of April. Winter is now a memory. Even though it wasn't that bad of a winter. Went to Walmart today. Trump's stupid, idiotic news the other conference: "You’re talking about 2.2 million deaths,” Trump said, referring to an Imperial College study that identified 2.2 million people as the high end of how many Americans could die if no measures were taken to slow the spread of coronavirus. “So, if we can hold that down, as we’re saying, to 100,000, it’s a horrible number, maybe even less, but to 100,000, so we have between 100 [thousand] and 200,000, we altogether have done a very good job.” -Vox. Really hit home with everybody. Lots of surgical masks floating through Walmart. Signs on the floor showing everybody how far six feet is. Even the counter at the pharmacy is blocked off so you have to lean over a little to pay the pharmacy bill. And walking around pushing that cart. Everybody frightened to even pass someone while going down a skinny aisle to get toilet paper or paper towels, AND both TP and PT are regulated. You can only buy so much at one time. It is an adventure.
Thursday, April o2, 2o2o
I look out the window at the empty streets, the empty parking lots . . . where are the squirrels running from tree to tree? Where are the sparrows bathing in the pothole on the corner of Felgar and Trout, yes, the sparrow's swimming hole that always seems to be full of muddy waters? And crows and eagles the random Beechcraft Bonanza airplane heading for the local airport? I don't like this world where everything that makes the world the world has disappeared, gone, like magic . . . gone.