On this 14th day since my trip into town shopping for supplies, no signs of COVID-19 here, and the POTUS is back at the White House pretending he has superhumanly survived his case of the disease (with the help of a phalanx of high-powered medical specialists). In his wake many others are now isolated in quarantine after attending to his every wish and whim while in hospital, during his foolish ride-in-the-car-car photo op and in close contact with him before that. It seems he has learned absolutely nothing of significance from his personal experience with the disease. Why I thought he might is beyond me.
He isn’t COVID clear yet, though, and could still experience the dreaded 2nd week crash, so not all hope is lost. But I'm not going to hold my breath for such an unlikely learning moment for the fool.
In the meantime, I’m breathing a sigh of relief and selfishly celebrating with a big slice of pumpkin pie baked late last night for breakfast today.
Its spicy flavor load accentuates this brilliant, early autumn morning as I wonder at how devastating it would be if my carelessness led to infection of others, or worse, their very death by contagion thoughtlessly shared from my own viral load. The pandemic is keeping me from seeing my parents, now on the cusp of the ninth decade of their lives. Both are still active, healthy and vibrant and I hope to be with them to celebrate their 90th birthdays, but only if that can be accomplished safely. It may happen within about a year's time if any of the vaccines are effective and available to us by then, and if we can manage to rid ourselves–via voting polls next month–of the clueless gang of self-serving super spreaders currently occupying the White House, maliciously encouraging others to behave as carelessly as they are.