You bastards got me.
I was wiping all kinds of shit down last night at the hotel where I work taking it all with a grain of salt and then I realized that in jumping through the hoops of a major scare, I was actually in it; there was nothing ironic about the fifteenth wipey I pulled out of our replacement pack at work. (We were down to one wipey night before last and I had brought my own, just in case). And then I got home and had a nice little bit of TV time from around 8 to 9am and then I started thinking of when I had to get up to teach a lesson to a student slightly older than I and that was it. I’m not mortally scared of catching this thing because we take chances everyday, I consider myself a hardy breed and what are you going to do? Hide away completely, bullied by the pressures of groupthink hysteria at the face of mother nature’s little bucking system against our plundering of this planet? No, I’m not afraid of getting sick.
But I don’t want to be that guy. I’m not set up for the weeks following this older student’s infection wondering if maybe my double-fisted hand wipe routine in and out of the bathroom door fell short; if in fact the thing to do if I didn’t want to play in to mother nature’s hand was to give up the savings I have set away for the longer game, give up my legal right to unemployment thus putting my trust in our fearless and utterly brainless president, give in to the very popular view that we must in fact act at every moment on fear and resist scratching our noses no matter how many handwashes we’ve engaged in for AT LEAST twenty seconds and stay the fuck home. Until further notice.
I was up until noon, having cancelled both my lessons. Second was a guitar lesson for a kid whose grandfather just got him a new Gibson and he was so excited about trying it out his dad told me he wasn’t going to let this thing bully them out of living their lives.
But I cancelled.
So have at me. Tell me what I’m not doing that would make it enough. I’m not even going to go into what a sacrafice it is not to see the many kids I normally see every week, despite the fact this thing has statistically skipped over them for consequences. But they might carry and on and on–you experts have beaten me into submission. Critique my routine, I am at your disposal for becoming useless to my community.
Your humble servant–
Another One Down