What a difference a day makes

It seems like the reality of Coronavirus finally hit yesterday. Things happened very quickly. One minute I was advising a friend to go ahead and run her dance that night - an hour later I was canceling the boys’ birthday party in two weeks. 

Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson, America’s sweethearts, have Coronavirus, while the orange turd has been in constant contact with infected people and yet has managed to repel it like a prom dress after the dance. Tomorrow is Theo’s sixth birthday. Everything is awful.

We have three band trips in the next two months - I’m fairly certain at least two will be canceled now. One is a wedding in Houston - I don’t see how we could get out of that. But everyone is nervous about getting on an airplane right now and ending up stuck somewhere - I am, too. I don’t know what’s going to happen with that. 

I’m preparing for schools to be closed soon, perhaps by next week. 

Most of my friends are in a way worse situation than me - they are mostly dancers and musicians who rely on events for income. My future is still up in the air - no guarantees I’ll have an event, or one in which I don’t lose my shirt even if it goes on - but it’s better than being pressured to cancel and then stuck with fees and deposits and paid for flights and all of that. What a nightmare. I still have some semblance of hope. Nobody has emailed asking what my plan is or canceling. Let’s keep it that way. 

I went to get my taxes done last night, and as I’d anticipated, they were a mess. Started out owing thousands of dollars (!), because sure enough the accountant missed a bunch of big expenses. Partially my fault - it’s a long story. So today I have to go through everything with a fine tooth comb. Ugh. We had to file an extension. I’ve never had to do that before. I take it as a personal failure.

My normal grocery trip today was a nightmare. My usually empty store was packed with panicked people and empty shelves. For someone like me who lives in the dried bean section, to find all those shelves bare filled me with rage. Are you kidding me? None of you fuckers are going to cook dried chick peas! You’re just going to order pizza!!!

I also used the word “cunt” to describe a right winger in my newsfeed mocking the crisis. If she had been in front of me I would have ripped her ears off. I am officially losing it.

I have never been less enthusiastic to celebrate my precious boys’ birthdays than I am right now. I bought three sad little cupcakes for a little family party tomorrow and that’s it. Two days ago I was planning a giant party for sixty-plus people. Today I’m planning for the coming apocalypse. 

Tell me, momma, what things were like when I was in school? Oh, let’s see...