A call at nine, and that’s all I have scheduled for today.  Kids are playing with each other in living room.  Loud, but at least civilly.  Going to write in journal in a bit, page for the day.  Last night’s class, speaking of journals, making me think more.  Revisiting certain projects and missions.  Hard to write right now with kids as loud as they are.  But at least I don’t have to separate them or be the ref for some scuffle.

Last night a couple of the students making jokes about the quarantine, using the same kind of humor they find in Lawson and Sedaris…. Then I started thinking about it, about this whole thing.  A pandemic named after a bad beer, or the official name, “COVID-19” which sounds like a Star Wars robot character that didn’t make the final draft.  I’m stuck in the house with crazy kids, or maybe they’re not crazy but just want to live.  Want the same thing we all do and that’s for shit to get back to normal.  They just communicate differently.  Think that’s all.

Shaved finally, showered (also finally), and dressed like I’m going out to the field.  Giving me a sense of if not normalcy then like I’m not trapped here.  No Starbucks run today, not letting myself.. what day is it I wonder.  OH, Tuesday.  ‘Cause class was last night.

The room got brighter.  Think the sun’s appearing and I think both kids just noticed, Jackie coming in here and asking if they can play outside.  Jack knows I’m working but asks if I can watch from the window.  I tell him to brush his teeth and check with his mom.

Last night woke at 3-something and couldn’t go back to sleep.  Had a sharp suggestion internally that I’ll either be laid off because of this covid shit, or there’ll be some seismic opportunity from this quarantine.  I don’t know, I can’t see any sort of future, and neither can you or anybody.  Kids laughing upstrair laughing about something.  I want that, I want to be able to see humor in this, but each day is harder.  Am I making it difficult?  Need be more lawless and Lawson about the quarantine.

Why do I want to work so hard?  Like Dad even suggested the other day over the phone, What do they expect you to do?  Not going to make my quota this month more than likely, but it’s not my fault these fuckwits aren’t getting back to me or turning in their contracts.  Even if one landed, I’d be fine.  So I’m doing what I’m supposed to, like a good boy.  That’s me being a growling journal-goblin.  I’m in a mood, I know… TOPIC NEXT.

Kids going outside.  All they want to do is play.  Jack tells me he’s like an adult and can watch little Emma.  I tell him to look out for cars, and that I’ll watch him from my quarantine view.  He says okay and heads to the garage to get something for Emma.