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73. COVID-19 Self-Isolation Day 30

Email to my friend:

SonXYZ still goes to his father's for dinner on Sundays. Nerve wracking. My ex is so irresponsible I doubt he pays attention to basic precautions. What if my ex infects SonXYZ and then he brings it home and I get it? And die! Have you heard people describing what it's like? AWFUL. In the era of COVID-19 my ex husband can literally kill me. Sigh. This is why the police should be out there ticketing people. That's what I am thinking about this easter eve. 

I just started coughing (and SonXYZ isn't even home yet) LOL.

This is what is has come to. I am literally on the verge of hysteria. I feel the fear rising from the bottom of my feet up through my body. The government has made it clear - don’t visit family. Don’t visit anyone. If they don’t live with you, avoid them.

I understand the kids feel sorry for their father (he has perfected the victim persona), but if we get this one wrong… I could be dead. I could suffocate to death. Horrible.

72. COVID-19 Brought out the pickaninny in me

Black hair. A trial at all times. In the time of COVID-19 self-isolation there is really no point in doing the daily wrestle to coax, cajole, tug, and harangue it into something somewhat respectable.

On the other hand, having untended nappy hair is not a pleasant feeling, even if you are the only one looking at yourself.

I have reverted to the simple childhood practice of braiding my hair.

My son took one look, did a double take, and the child who does his best to ignore me and pretend I am invisible was mesmerized. How did you do that??? I realized then that this is a very popular gangster/rapper look. It is a vintage black look that is completely out of reach for my sweet son with his silky corkscrew ringlets.

I was shocked that for his entire life (23 years), and probably longer, I have been so committed to hair-that-is-acceptable-to-white-folk, that I have never (never!!! NEVER!!!) relaxed into this simple easy braiding.

An out-of-the-blue Aha! moment.

71. Telling time in the time of COVID-19

I used to know the day of the week, because I never loose track of Friday. TGIF!!! A day to hanker for.

Now the days blend, because there is nothing to mark one from the other. Even the business of news runs 24/7. Our Prime Minister, the Comforter-in-Chief, never takes a day off.

He gets me out of bed. Everyday by 11 a.m. I try to be up and coherent enough to take in his daily words of comfort. Sometimes with a cup of coffee, sometimes with a charcuterie board breakfast, two days ago with a cheese fondue. This is what anchors my days - the daily message from our upbeat optimistic beautiful Prime Minister.

My current barometer for a weekend? The two consecutive days a week our Prime Minister doesn’t wear a tie.

And today, I knew it was windy because his perfect hair … are you ready for this… it MOVED.