Today was supposed to be my “Hey, don’t worry if I’m out of sight for a bit. I’m not trapped under furniture or anything, there’s no need to send out the search dogs.” post. I was gearing up for some time off.

Stupid coronavirus.

It’s been a weird couple of weeks. Normally I’m all spazzed out before a trip, planning like a loon, mentally packing and unpacking and repacking my bags. It’s a process. Not a pleasant one, granted, but a finely-ish honed system that’s gotten me through a fair amount of travel. It worked.

But this time I never really bought into the fact that we were supposed to leave the country tomorrow. Like, I had it on the calendar and all, but I didn’t feel it down in my soul. Maybe it’s ’cause there was a lot of life stuff going on, maybe I was watching the world freak out about COVID-19 and sensed something off. Either way, the trip got cancelled over health concerns and I’m using my super zen skills to be all Huh. Okay then. Guess that’s how it goes.

The only lemon I can’t seem to turn into lemonade is those tickets we bought to see Hamilton on our trip. I am seriously bummed about that one, man. Looks like we’ll be playing the soundtrack on repeat for a while.