Now it’s a bromide but institutions, relationships, lifestyles, expectations, hopes, dreams, and everything else will be reset, dislocated, destroyed, melted down and recast, and reimagined. Everything will change, including me.

Will I die of the virus? Something else? I’ve always worried about these things anyway. I’m a hypochondriac, an expression of anxiety and perhaps guilt for having gotten away with not needing to be happy for so long.

I have been asking God for an answer to the question, “What should I do now?” Should I move on to other issues and topics? I’ve kind of grown exhausted dealing with housing. I joked that if Kim Jong Un fired a missile and flattened Seattle, our housing “crisis” would be over. Well, it’s over. I have a presentation that I am doing this week and most of it is irrelevant. Thank you?

As for my future, I had a nice respiratory issue after riding in trains, buses, subways, and planes from Seattle to London to Cornwall to Wales to Scotland through two huge apocalyptic storms with cold, relentless rain and hail. Maybe I had it. Maybe I’ll get it. Maybe I’ve got something else? Perhaps I’ll die.

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!
There was an old lady who swallowed a spider;
That wriggled and jiggled and tickled inside her!
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

Yes, I’ll die. So will everyone else.

I am growing some hope in the small clay pot on my patio, carrots actually. Each day I worry about avoiding the virus, work to understand its impacts on the economy, and wonder what the hell is coming next.