The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below
Rabbit, rabbit! I am having a great deal of difficulty with my state continuing to reopen as our delta cases spike. I was obliged to be inside two buildings for purposes of errands this afternoon and while I appreciated that more masks were in evidence than not, it did not make me feel as safe(r; safe as an absolute has been out of the question for some time now) as it might have even a month ago. I was just about the only person wearing a mask on the street. Somerville is recommending indoor masking, but not requiring it; Massachusetts as a whole has not reinstated the mask order it rescinded in May. We are officially no longer in a state of emergency. Please ignore the rates of community transmission blooming red across the map. It feels a bit like living in that blown-off splinter of reality in Diana Wynne Jones' Witch Week (1982), except I don't think there's much chance of merging into a healthier worldline. As of this week,
spatch has returned to work in person. At least he is mostly interacting with dust.
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That all sounds very, worryingly, annoyance-makingly familiar. I can't recommend you sitting for two hours in a theater with unmasked strangers, either, and I am so sorry.
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If they were only hurting themselves it would be tempting to write them off. But of course they're also hurting children, immune-compromised people, etc., not to mention medical professionals who have to cope with whatever wave this is now.
Anyway. You know all this already, but the urge to vent came over me.
Hang in there, and stay safe. This has to end eventually.
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It's healthy. *hugs* if they help.
Hang in there, and stay safe. This has to end eventually.
You, too. I want to see it.