My UCD classes start a week from today. I’ve been working like crazy and will continue to do so, but I have gotten quite a bit done.
Two of my three Winter classes are graded. My two Sac City classes are all prepped for this week, and I’m caught up on that grading.
I sent my reworked syllabi to my Spring UCD courses, though I still have to build the Canvas sites and make the videos and assignments for the first couple of weeks.
I have a meeting about moving the comp exam online tomorrow. And I’m scoring Literature in Translation exams for IB this month. At some point soon, Melissa and I have to approve the last round of proofs so our textbook is available for Fall classes.
My daily “breaks” consist of cooking–trying out new recipes. So we’re eating well. I made an enchilada pie last night and pork katsu with homemade sauce the night before. (The stores are out of sugar, so my son has forbidden baking. All of our sugar must be saved for iced tea.)
Thoth loves having me home, especially in the mornings. He gets up in my lap or on the desk and pushes me with his paw. Sometimes, he moves my hand off the mouse. Sometimes, just pushes my chest back into the seat. This subtle code means he wants me to lie down on the couch (I’m allowed to have my laptop out as long as I don’t move too much.) He’s conked out on my chest right now. He probably won’t move until Dante comes home. Thoth doesn’t like being caught adoring me; he has a rep to protect.
Dante and I are aware of our luck in still having jobs. He’s checking in on a friend who’s laid off.
We’re also aware of the risks we have. He’s working retail (Target), so he’s coming in contact with more people than is advisable. I had to go into a med center this morning for my asthma medicine. My asthma makes me at risk of Covid complications, so I’m in a bind. Going to the med center itself is a bad idea, but so is letting my asthma get bad if I go without the drug (it’s not something I can give to myself, unfortunately).
My intrusive thoughts this week are less about the apocalypse and more about the possibility of being one of the casualties of this virus.
Have I thought about how I need to pack a “going to the hospital” purse, since if I do get sick, I won’t have the energy to do so when I need to? Yes.
I am trying to hold it together, so I’m refraining from tearfully apologizing in advance to my son about not being able to leave him any financial stability, and about not being able to leave an apartment purged of letters from long-ago lovers and sex toys.
I’m refraining from calling my mother to tell her that if I do die, responsibility can be traced back to everyone who voted for Trump. I’m mostly refraining because THAT’S EXACTLY THE KIND OF DEATH BED GUILT TRIP SHIT SHE WOULD PULL, and I don’t want to become my mother in what could be my last days.
