We are not out of the woods. Nowhere near out of the woods. There is already talk of second wave and third wave infections and spreads of the coronavirus. Maybe, maybe not. While I appreciate the importance of preparing for the worst, I draw the line at fear-mongering. It was the leader of the Official Opposition, Conservative Party leader Andrew Scheer whom I heard mention this on the radio this morning. But conservatives are notorious for fear and fear-mongering, being so very reptilian-brained, so Gentle Reader, do please consider the source.
It certainly has us all pretty knackered. And chronically on edge. Coming back to Canada, early, in order to live in this cesspit of angst and nervousness that the news media and government have helped change us into, was not something to look forward to, and not fearing the virus (I'm still not afraid of the big bad virus), I was simply full of resentment for having to cope with everyone else's fear and neurasthenic anxiety about getting sick and dying and the end of their lovely little world as they have always known it. I think I'm a little more compassionate now, having made it my priority to be kind and to care for those around me, instead of judging or resenting them.
It's hard to say which would be worse right now, plague or war. Our prime minister Junior seems to be getting off on the war metaphors and analogies. Gets his testosterone going, I suppose, and likely makes him feel like a historically important leader guiding this country through a historically difficult time. I imagine he would rather emulate Sir Winston Churchill than William Lyon Mackenzie King, who was more or less a disaster as a wartime prime minister. Well, maybe not a disaster, but still quite a weirdo. Even the Queen Mother (yes, THAT Queen Mother) didn't quite enjoy being in the same room with him. I think she referred to him as a loathsome little toad.
If it's going to be plague or war, I'll take plague. At least people aren't going to be killing each other, Or not yet, anyway. Even if some of us are dying. Which could be exactly why a lot of people would prefer war. Killing the enemy. Gets the testosterone going. I imagine that war is sexier than plague. You know, like in London during the Blitz, all those English lasses offering up their maidenhood to studly young Canadian soldiers, and all in the service of Mother England. And suchlike. It could always be worse, but this is going to take quite a while to recover from.
I'm doing okay and have very little, maybe nothing to complain about. The safe distancing is annoying, of course, but it has to be done. I do miss going to coffee shops, and being able to see my friends in person. On the other hand, I am spending way less money, still have an income, that is still more or less what I was receiving pre-plague, and for doing considerably less work. And I can still go out on decently long walks for fresh air, exercise, and to revel in the glories and delights of this burgeoning spring season. While being very careful to not walk too close to anyone, of course.
Dave and I both cheated a little bit on Sunday so we could do a safely distanced long walk together, and so I could repay him the money he shoved out to help get my sorry ass back from Costa Rica. Otherwise it's mostly Skype. There are five, maybe six people I visit regularly on video chat. Juan in Colombia and I talk almost every day. Alonso and I two or three times a week. Barry, one of my friends from church, and I try for at least once a week, and so does Gillian Skype with me, another friend from church, every week. Esteban, my friend in Costa Rica, and I are also on Skype a bit more than once a week. And it looks like I might be in contact with another person who lives in Ecuador. Not bad really, and I am having a lot more face time with people during the quarantines and social distancing than during so called normal times. And my Spanish can remain fluent, improve and flourish, because I am speaking the language every single day, even though I am now back in Canada.
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