Today is day 12 of self-isolation for me. It was a pretty good day, all things considered.

I started a new book (The Glass Hotel by Emily St. John Mandel), which was in the last delivery I got from my library before they closed the building and stopped circulating items. I’m about a quarter into it, and I found myself thinking about the characters while walking Watson earlier this evening. It’s a good sign, and I love Station Eleven so, so very much that I have very high hopes for this one. I’ll let you know how it is. I started an online book club with Bookclubz for a bunch of friends and some family wanting to talk books and needing connection. We’ll start out by reading whatever we have and joining together to chat. Maybe when all of this is over we’ll read the same book together. Who knows. I wrapped up the day reading Chapter Two of The Mouse and the Motorcycle over Zoom. Books and words and stories are life.

I’ve also got a big pot of chicken soup with orzo bubbling away beside me right now. I’ve been trying to eat mostly vegetarian, but sometimes chicken soup is required. I’m pretty sure now is one of those times. It smells amazing and soothing and rich and I’m now looking forward to lunch for the week. Big batch cooking is the best.

Over the weekend I meant to bake, but just didn’t get there. Maybe I’ll get to it this week. Then again, I also haven’t done my laundry yet either. We’ll see.

Everything feels like there’s no true rush anymore (except for getting people to stay the fuck at home) and life has turned into one big “we’ll see.” Maybe it has been all along, and that’s what we can learn from this.