I have always read the biggest newspapers in the area: The Detroit News and the Detroit Free Press. The following is a screenshot of today’s opinion.
At first glance, it seemed the headline writer had gone full sensationalist. Reading further – because how can one not? – I saw the headline matched the tone. I want to tell Mr. Stern, “Take a moment, relax, and just breathe.”
But that would be advocating homicide.
Seriously, the entire thing reads like poor satire. The columnist worries “because the person in front of me in the grocery line is wearing a mask below his nose — expelling a cloud of radioactive COVID dust that I cannot escape, short of dropping $50 on the conveyor belt and trying to outrun the security guard.”
I think my elderly parents have a much better attitude about Covid-19. They socially distance, limit interactions, wear a mask, wash their hands thoroughly, and pay attention to health habits: regular sleep, regular exercise, and vitamin supplements. If they avoid people with bad hygiene – including mask-wearing etiquette.
They want to live, yet they don’t succumb to feelings of despair and… well, whatever sentiment pervades that column!
This weekend I was apprehensive and, frankly, disgruntled by the mandatory closure of The Young Human Factory. Emails were trickling in from worried parents; piles of paperwork, books, and folders covered all horizontal surfaces in the livingroom; and my social engagements were canceled.*
But today I was anxiety-free as the wheels fell off.
First, I forgot to reprogram the furnace from its routine 14 Celsius/58 Fahrenheit setting. I slept an extra hour and felt refreshed… until I sat up bad flipped back the quilt and woolen blankets. I dashed to turn up the thermostat, then read in bed for an hour.
Then I tried using the scan function of my new-ish printer. It did not go well. Luckily, the public library is keeping normal hours! The “library lady” gave me good advice. (And checked out gardening books.)
Better luck tomorrow.
*The MET cancelled Der Fliegender Hollander, which meant no simulcast in a nearby theater. It would have been my first “real” opera, as operettas don’t count. However, I already had a disappointment when Bryn Terfel broke his ankle and was replaced by Evgeny Nikitin, a baritone with whom I’m unfamiliar.