Yeah, yeah, I know. But I have a question for those of you who indulge in science fiction on a steady basis: Do these brilliant writers who construct scenarios for the end of the world as we know it ever – ever? – posit a run on toilet paper as the first instinct of humanity when the end is near?

See. What do they know. Really, what do any of us know. I walked to the grocery store yesterday to stock up on ice cream because here’s what I know: I’d rather die with a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth than a ventilator imposed on my face. 

I learned one useful thing today amidst all the tales of coronavirus chaos. In addition to DNR (“do not resuscitate” for you youngsters), I can add AND to a medical bracelet. AND stands for “allow natural death.” I’d get comfort care but nor heroic measures. Sounds good to me right now. But, since I just learned of these initials, I wonder how many people would know what it meant. Perhaps most would be wondering, “AND what? AND what? Where’s the rest of this?”

Wouldn’t you think I’d be hard at work trying to finish my book while life is so restricted? Yeah, but no. Whatever I was thinking so hard about just two weeks ago is now so far from my mind that I can’t even remember what that was. Much less can I start caring about it again. I kind of want to survive this pandemic just so I can see what emerges as our top issues once Covid-19 recedes from the news. Will we pick up where we left off, slinging mud over misgendering, forcing the label of “oppressor” on anyone who ever had a bit of privilege, killing capitalism because it clearly wasn’t up to the task of solving everything? Or will entirely new issues capture our wrath?

OK, I’m signing off for now. I have enough ice cream – and enough TP for a few days. Stay well.