Round and Round Like Goldfish In A Bowl

      . . . . I want to go out, now the weather's rather better, but el V is back in again, after only a couple of minutes.

The entire entire neighborhood today is dangerous to go out in because it's packed in the way Times Square wasn't allowed to be NY's Eve. Nobody is wearing masks, not really. They are on their necks and chins, and they're all standing close together to get seated in one the streateries.  The people who don't live here are back.

Yesterday was rough. We had another storm here, which for us was hard rain all day and into the night.

This may have contributed to both of us crashing hard yesterday, physically and mentally. For maybe only the second time since the Pandemic I never even got dressed. I couldn't do anything at all. As well as w/o energy, I felt sick, had stomach cramps. (El V didn't share that, though he did the general malaise.) Which made no sense. Nor were we remotely hung over. We each had a glass of champagne at midnight with a couple of pieces of dark cacao chocolate. We'd eaten reasonably in the day. But both of us were flat out miserable, if not so in exactly the same ways. We'd not even gotten out of bed until after noon because of feeling rotten. Both asleep again by midnight last night.

Perhaps ... why the crash? ... having people we are close to starting to die again? again that every day the information about the Pandemic is worse than the day before?  knowing we can't do anything for el Vs family in Tucson, and can't even be there with them?  I dunno.

Thank goodness, today I feel a lot better: I am wearing clothes! I have washed my hair! I have changed the sheets! I have made rice! I had toast, whereas yesterday I ate nothing.

Again, like Christmas week, this is a week that was a month of Sundays. I can't believe it is still this week. A lot happened, but we are feel like gold fish in the glass bowl, swimming round and round and round with every round exactly the same.

At least there are books to read -- Christmas haul, doncha know.

Stothard, Peter. (2020) The Last Assassin: The Hunt for the Killers of Julius Caesar

Tempest, Kathryn (2017) Brutus: The Noble Conspirator

Crowley, Roger. (2019) The Accursed Tower: The Fall of Acre and the End of the Crusades

Johnson, Walter (2020) The Broken Heart of America: St. Louis and the Violent History of the United States

Harris, John (2020) The Last Slave Ships: New York and the End of the Middle Passage

The only remotely good part of yesterday was snugged up in bed, reading The Last Assassin, fantasizing that somebody will take upon themselves, in whatever form it take, to execute all those who have assassinated the USA.