I want to preface this blog by saying that given the current circumstances, Nate and I have it pretty good.

We both still have jobs and neither job is in danger (probably).
We can still pay our condo fees, mortgage, bills, etc.
We are both healthy (as far as we know).
Everyone we care about is healthy (as far as we know).

So our situation could be much, much worse in many different ways.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I am angry and disappointed.

I’m angry that my mom is finally able to retire this year but won’t get to travel (at least for a while), which is what she immediately wanted to do. Hell, she can’t even go to, like, a mall to celebrate.

I’m angry that Nate and I had an awesome retirement trip planned out for her that was going to be awesome for all three of us. Redwoods? Mets games? Family hangout time? Gone.

I’m angry that I’ve finally gotten a semester completely off for the first time since 2017 and most of the long walks that I haven’t been able to do because I’ve been too busy I now can’t do because of social distancing restrictions (or just general “I don’t want to take the risk by going to Walmart/taking the bus/sharing this path with 100 people who don’t understand the concept of covering their mouth when they cough).

I’m angry about not knowing how long all this will last.

I’m angry that my parents are in one of the most at-risk populations and, due to the border being closed and airlines being NOPE, it would be very difficult for me to get down to them if either of them got sick.

I’m angry that there are probably enough people who are still not taking this seriously enough that a second surge of this thing is probably going to hit once we start gradually opening things back up.

I’m just. Angry.

Sorry for the complaining. I need to do it somewhere.