Space Madness

Captain’s log, stardate 4275.3

I fear that my crew and I will not survive in isolation much longer.

Well. My crew might. He’s a resourceful little cat, and I should I perish, I’m sure he would take it upon himself to eat me before I spoiled.

I, though, am not faring well.

The rations have begun to be tiresome (since I ate both bags of Doritos I bought on Friday already). Their nutritional value is adequate, but one cannot survive on chopped salad alone. That’s how that saying goes, right?

I also have a sore throat, which could be from allergies, but also could be the Coronavirus. I will hope that if it is the Coronavirus, I’ll spend most of my illness in a hazy stupor and eventually awaken, weakened but refreshed, with a brave new world full of sunshine opening to greet humanity’s survivors.

None of that is to mention the creeping boredom and madness of isolation.

I’ve completed countless cross-stitches and a huge chunk of a jigsaw puzzle. I’m not sure I’ve ever completed an entire jigsaw puzzle on my own. I’ve never been that bored.

I find myself holding long conversations with the cat. He humors me, but I suspect it is because I feed him and scoop his poop.

There are bright spots in this new world of silent introspection. No one in my household whistles, for one thing. I’ve spent many long days without the shrill, ear-piercing sound of a whistled non-melody screeching down the hall to my office.

I have also found that isolation loungewear suits me. Clothes, I’ve discovered, are mostly for warmth, and so you don’t have to sit your bare ass on itchy surfaces. All other considerations are secondary and mostly moot.

I shall endeavor to check in again soon, if only to leave my record for those who come after me.

Editor’s note:

I know that there are people who actually are suffering in this world we’re living in. I am not one of them. At least not in any way that’s going to kill me.

Please take care of yourselves!