On January 20th I saw the United States Postal Service was sending out free COVID tests. I went ahead and requested them for myself, Bloomfield, and Leah. Two weeks later, nothing. No updates saying, "It shipped" or "There's a delay".
So much for free, so much for the U.S. government, so much for people being proactive with COVID.

Tuesday was uneventful. Since it was Groundhog Day, I thought about how Phil Connors repeated the same day over and over again then contemplated my Tuesday. I realized how uneventful it was, wake, work, browse the web, head into the county, finish work, cook, eat dinner, head to the bar, write, return and update inkubo.org. Perhaps by repeating the day, I can figure out how there's so much more to do and many missed opportunities which also come with a do-over button. At least until I get it right, whatever it is.

I did have a little dread concerning going to write at the bar over my three pineapple juices. The first draft of my second story went well, though I felt like I rushed towards the end just to put the cap on the bottle, but I feel like I caught fire once or twice and for that I'm proud. My dread, misplaced as it was, concerned my ability to just write. But once I sat down with my pineapple juice and complimentary mini-pizza, the words just came out. Not to a mad extent like Richard Madoc after raping Calliope, but they flowed after a fashion.

After that, I read Trees Don't Rush To Heal From Trauma And Neither Should We over at Psyche and found it to be helpful for my current state of mind. Beronda Montgomery uses the mechanics of trees hibernating for winter as an allegory for the psyche recovering from turmoil and upset from life. Healing happens at its own pace, and often times that healing demands extra time to get the job done right. While it may leave a scar or some other mark, it serves as a reminder that someone learned from a situation and ensures continued health. Perhaps on Friday I'll read it over again.

Before leaving Johnny Mac's, I read Coleridge's Work Without Hope. The literary illustrations by Coleridge are beautiful and fine, and I logically appreciate the message conveyed with the poetry but it has yet to resonate in my heart. Thing is I believe this is something which ought to resonate in my heart so it's fully appreciated a a work of art and a thesis for living one's life.

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