Day 34

Our habitat can be found in the Dogwood City of the West. It makes me wonder how many Dogwood Cities there are. But it doesn't make me wonder they'd want to call it that.

The dogwoods are blooming all over the neighborhood, in every other yard at least. The dogwood bloom marks the beginning of my favorite time of year. The leaves are that brand-new-green color, and the blossoms are fireworks. I went out walking this afternoon, and for just a moment forgot I was supposed to be concerned with anything of greater import than those pale pink blossoms.

I'm getting to where I'm not constantly thinking about the Dread Virus. It's never quite out of mind, since being in isolation all day never stops being weird. But I'm not so often scratching that itchy thought anymore. That change comes with good and bad news. It's good that I'm taking a break from my one-track death metal single. The bad part is I'm still anxious, but I don't always remember why. A cosmic background hum of fretfulness has been so constant, it's easy for me to slip into thinking that the fretting itself must be why I'm staying in. I have to remind myself that, no, there's an actual exigent circumstance at play. Fretting might not be the best response to that, but at least my worry is in regard to a real thing that's really happening.

Once long ago, I was a passenger in a car that ran straight into a wall at speed. I remember realizing, almost excitedly, that a real thing was happening to me, that I was living out a big-deal moment. I admit to a kind of perverse comfort in the fact that what's happening now is decidedly a big deal. For a little while I don't have to worry about whether my life is interesting. It's plenty interesting. It's too interesting.

For once it isn't ennui outside the door. but something much more potent. Something with teeth. Something terribly exciting.