No, It DOESN'T Look Like a Crown

Image ganked from Wikimedia Commons

This image (naval contact mine, for the record) is a much more apt symbol for the bloody SARS-CoV-2 virus that's been making our lives such a joy of late. Every now and then I have the distinct impression of having brushed against one of those damned contact points.

This week has been one of those moments. I will spare all of you the details, because honest to ghod who needs to read some more whining from a writer who can't write? But it hasn't been like me to miss a day of posting a chapter from the current serialization, and I definitely missed it Monday.

In fact, I didn't even realize I had forgotten about the task until more than twenty-four hours later.

Well, it has been that sort of experience for many if not most of us, I suspect. It has been interesting, accommodating oneself to the process of communicating with friends through video and/or audio chat services, and finding oneself forbidden from entering grocery stores or markets on account of age and alleged infirmity.

And, of course, to find oneself wondering, from time to time, when certain medical appointments and surgeries are going to be allowed to resume.