I have found my sea legs or my equilibrium or whatever.

I often let anxiety get to me until we reach the runaway train status.  Then?  Well, then, I’m cool as a cucumber.

I think we’re at runaway train status.  There’s nothing that can be done now, but hang on and try to enjoy the ride.

Today was normal if normal involved a ratty t-shirt and holey leggings for work attire.  I was busy beginning at 7:17 a.m. and rocked almost constantly until after 5 (except for the 30-minute snooze after lunch of leftover spaghetti).  It was normal in the variety of problems that presented, but the problems were all related to the fact that bunches of people who don’t normally are now working from home.

I drove myself crazy trying to find passwords for purchasing sites that I use.  I didn’t think to bring home any post-it notes.  How can one work without stickies everywhere?  I drove myself crazy trying to get real people on the phone.  I even called my ISP to try and solve an email problem — talk about being driven crazy.  All of it far more normal feeling than fretting.

I’m hanging on.

I’m at work. I came in to pack up stuff for a lengthy work at home stint. Walked in to find the Executive Director officially shutting us down. Shortly after that, the governor ordered shelter-in-place.

So it’s really real. This is how a pandemic progresses.

Be safe.

Photo by Tom Fisk on Pexels.com

I’ve been a slug today.  I have done nothing of any import.  I have eaten multiple times.  I have danced with the puppies.  I have stalked Facebook.

An aside:  I moved a Milwaukee boy down here and was present when he encountered his first slug.  Now it was a really big slug, but still.  He was a really big guy.  Anyway.  I heard bellowing from the downstairs.  I rushed out of the bath and down the stairs to find The Ex cowered with my infant son pointing at a slug and its slimy trail on the  carpet.  He was terrified.  Horrified and lots of –fieds.  I was amused.  He was not.

Tomorrow, I go into the office to pack up my PC and files to bring home.  Call it a hunch, but I think West Virginia will be ordered to stay home very soon.  I need to be ready.

I did run across an amusing meme today.  I am Connie, the artiste-in-residence at The Barn of W. Va. Fur & Root.  Namaste, y’all.