Day 17

I have isolation violations (visolations?) to report.

2 delicious bahn mi sandwiches arrived at the north hatch of the habitat just before lunchtime. How they came here I know not, though I saw a friend's head disappearing into the mist. For all we know, those sandwiches might have been handled. They could easily have been touched by the people who lovingly made them. We ate them anyway. Tell no one.

If that weren't enough, my habitat-mate has gone to the grocery! She will be distanced, of course. She will come no closer to anyone than the piper whose music echoes down from the high slopes to the lowlands. But still she will feel the presence of OTHERS. We must erase the 15 on our "No Human Contact In __ Days:" sign and replace it with a zero. It cannot be avoided. We have been two weeks on our own. The ice cream has run dry. Only the last two squares of the last chocolate bar remain to sustain us.

(Seriously, though, we're out of onions. We can work magic, but not miracles. For toilet paper, we're still good. I believe I explained as much in my first entry.)

I have of course stayed at home. I write this from my lurking place on the floor by the front window. Were I to leave, who would stay and watch for squirrel, ready to hiss at him? He is a clever one, squirrel. I must be clever, too.