Well, today’s been another dead loss. Hails of messages and emails (thanks to all who checked in with me because, I presume, I am so old that a cough on a breeze coming from ten miles away could drop me in my tracks), clearing up from cancelled travel, sending money to precarious nearest and dearest, and observing at my local food hall that apparently in the time of plague the third thing to hoard behind toilet paper and hand sanitiser is chicken pieces.

I’ve generally avoided talking about this, because my brain is in a blender as it is. But now it feels like it might be worth doing at least some kind of partial personal log of these times. Someone said to me today, “I’m freaked out that you’re freaked out. You’re usually so unflappable.” And, I admit, it got to me yesterday, I put all the news feeds back on, watched borders close, started hearing about confirmed cases within two or three degrees from me.

I mean, I’m Generation X. We all assumed this was coming, and we’ve all been ready for decades to cut you for clean water. And, since we were the generation left to roam the streets, let ourselves in and sit around alone for hours, we are entirely prepared for all this, because we learned the tools and emotions were dunned out of us early.

It’s still a weird moment.

Anyway, I’m fine, and will likely continue to be so. Tomorrow, I need to fully shake it off and go into deep work mode.