We’ve almost reached the end of 2020.
That gap between now and then looks cavernous.
By god, how did we get here?
By ‘here’, I mean how did we get to another white mom starting her own blog in an effort to craft a writing career during the end times.
I only have selfish answers. I’m sorry.
I’ll do my best to make it up to you.
Current stats
Unemployed: Yes
Married: Yes(!)
Quarantined: Yes
COVID-19: Negative
Kids in Virtual School: 6
Dogs: 3
You want to see the dogs, don’t you. If you insist.
“Wait. You said there were 3.”
I did say that. Excellent reading comprehension. We also have my mother’s dog staying with us for the time being. His name is Buster.
This is our starting point; figuring out what to do, nowhere to go, plenty of kids and dogs. One of them is Buster.
There are so many things I should do. It’s impossible to shake that pressure and quarantine has only made it worse. If you’re not doing anything, accomplishing anything, contributing anything, then…well…what’s the point?
It’s one of those vulnerable “meaning of life/personal purpose” spots that gets you trapped in NXIVM.
Let’s avoid that, shall we?
Days somehow both rush and drag by. There’s no shortage of activity. But at the end of the day, it’s hard to feel like anything’s been done. I’ve attributed this to the pandemic and the time rift it’s caused. But I’m not sure that’s the case.
Maybe it’s always been this way and the pandemic allowed us to see it up close. That’s certainly been the case for so much of what America runs on. It’s not Dunkin. It’s greed and despair. Everyone’s been ok with it. Somehow plenty of people are still ok with it.
How did we get here?
And by ‘here’ I mean on the precipice of America’s final undoing wrought from the inside by fascists trumpeting God and Country. The usual.
Where do I fit in all this? Where do you? Where do we want to fit?
What’s the point?
I don’t know, but I’m going to write anyway.
Lemon Squeezy 