…i don’t do much. not so much because i’m slavishly obedient to some government talking head but because none of the Places Steph Wants To Go are open. so my day basically goes like this: wake up, go for a run, go to work, go home, drink wine while my husband and i stare at each other over the firepit, sleep and do over.

sometimes i go to the grocery store which i’ve been told is the most dangerous thing to do ever by people who don’t know that i dive with sharks for fun.

i’m getting bored. even work is getting kind of boring as i sit in dispatch and take calls from scads of annoying adult tattle-tales in the more affluent areas who use social distancing as a verb while they rat out their neighbors because a lot of our callers are ridiculously self-serious and hate fun.

the worse-off areas aren’t lucky enough to be boring. apparently all this free time and togetherness has inspired certain individuals in the poorer neighborhoods to become violent fucking assholes who have turned their communities into thunderdome. it’s become so bad that now more than in past years public health and safety can be measured by one’s proximity to a check cashing establishment.

i’m lucky to live in a relatively affluent suburb and even we aren’t immune to it. my husband and i were sitting around our firepit in our backyard a couple nights ago when a police helicopter began orbiting overhead, the pilot shouting a description to the ground.

“what’s with the ghetto bird?” my husband asked as if i would know. i shrugged and called the people who would know and was informed that a dude who’d shot someone had led police on a chase and foot-bailed in my neighborhood at which time my husband got the 12-gauge out and we continued enjoying our fire pit.

quarantine is annoying.

p.s. – boomers can’t zoom. say hello to my son doing it (grade: A+) and my neckless dad and the top of my step-mom’s head (grade: D-).