At 8:55 am I officially turned a year older. Reaching this age is a privilege and a shock. I turned sixty-one. I’m lucky I don’t feel it or, apparently, look it. I know I don’t act it. I rang up this guy I had to card for alcohol last night. He moaned about being old. He was thirty-six. I laughed, “Ha, you know how old I’m turning tomorrow? Sixty-one!” I saw his eyes widen over his mask and he replied, “Oh my God, I would have guessed forty-five.” “Actually, people guess that age for me a lot. I’m not complaining. I’m lucky.”

This all begged the question, “If he thinks his thirty-six is old, he must think my forty-five is old, right?” Hmm.

Anyway, I just ate fajitas from Chili’s. My roommate ordered us my birthday dinner. I really can’t wait to be able to go to a a crowded laugh-filled restaurant and enjoy a relaxing meal.

I know we are so exhausted and depressed by the persistence of this pandemic. It’s fucked up so much, including, most-likely, my love life. I’m trying not to be depressed about that. I’m also trying not to be anxious about my four diagnostic procedures. I’m drinking wine instead of taking my anti-anxiety pill. I will take one before I go to bed. I’m just having one glass of vino.

I had to go to Publix to get antihistamines a new toothbrush and I got myself a treat.

A new toothbrush and a mini Key Lime pie for my birthday. How exciting. What I seriously want is a more lucrative way of earning a living and a happy new home. An entirely improved life would be awesome. My last birthday felt so much more hopeful. The ugly coronavirus hadn’t hit the US yet. I remember when it’s existence in China first appeared in our news I thought, oh, it’s gonna land in the Pacific Northwest first. There is such a tight business connection between Asia and the PNW, I just knew Seattle or Portland would get the first victim. I was right; the first poor soul lived near Seattle. Despite the crappy year and the, thus far, extremely confusing and scary one, I keep moving forward. At least for the past 24 hours, I haven’t had any abdominal pain and that includes six hours of being at work. So, that is hopeful.

I desperately miss being in school and being around intellectual, like-minded people. I miss spending hours doing library research. Yeah, I need a heap of money for that to start up again.

Walmart, my former employer, sent me birthday greetings.

I know I complain a lot about the heat in Florida but, I do feel horrible about all those folks having a real shitty time without heat, electricity or running water. My heart especially goes out to the people in Texas. Houstonites must have spinning heads; this is so far out of their normal weather. I pray for them.