Monday, June 8, 2020

The guard waves me in to the supermarket. No line, no thermometer: he’s back to just sitting there and nodding. We’re getting contradictory news about the virus. Performance halls can open soon for crowds of up to 250. That might include the dance center, if they limit tickets to the main space or close off the balcony. Their website isn’t saying yet. Trains were supposed to start tomorrow, but now it looks like they won’t. No one has figured out how to limit crowding on them. They may be starting up more enforcement on buses. Schools have opened, but some have had clusters of positive tests and are closing again. Headlines tell us that smokers are at a greater risk, but nicotine might prevent some symptoms. We’ve hit a stasis of low-level confusion. In my kitchen, as I prepare to cook more JoeBowls, the first cockroach of the season emerges from beneath my refrigerator and runs onto my foot. I kick it away. It flies involuntarily into a wall. I get a paper towel to pick it up and drop it outside. When I turn back to get it, it’s gone. It will be back, or another one just like it. Summer is almost here.