Stardate 73687: Eighth day of social distancing

Today I waved at a passing helicopter. For real. I was a little sad when they didn’t wave back. Maybe they did and I just blinked? And when people came over to buy plants today I resisted the sudden urge to hug them. Speaking of the plant sale. There’s nothing more wonderfully hilarious than people trying to pay you for plants though. “I’ll just leave this on the table.” I mean, money is dirty, but whatever. I’ll take it. Gimme that dirty coronavirus money! Heck, I sold a lot today so I plan on doing it again tomorrow. What else am I going to do? And we started a few hundred new seeds this afternoon just in case the government collapses. Tomorrow was supposed to be the 24th annual Rolando Street Fair. Sandi Grossman Buehner made it look easy… I mean, she never postponed the street fair and I had to postpone the blasted thing in my first year. So yeah, I suck because taking on the street fair somehow unleashed a global pandemic. My bad. I can’t think of the last time I touched someone outside of my family. It’s weird, in normal life you socially touch people all the time, and now I feel like if I accidentally shake someone’s hand I should get a ticket. Or run for Vice President. How are you supposed to greet people now? I notice some people are bumping elbows but I find myself touching my heart… like I do when I greet the Muslim women at school. I rather like that, it feels more natural than bumping elbows. I made black beans today. If I had a Cuban mother I reckon she’d be proud of me. And why did I type “reckon”? Tonight’s update is written by Samuel Clemons apparently. I do declare. The beans were good though. I reckon. Let’s be honest that this self-quarantine thing kinda sucks. I mean, we’re all making the best of it, but you know what would be better right now? Talking about our March Madness brackets. Or the street fair tomorrow. Or my second mission trip starting today. Or shaking hands with strangers. But instead, here we are, socially isolating ourselves so we don’t eat the Pinguinos. Has anyone started to wonder if this is the opening chapter of a Zombie book? No, just me. Have I mentioned I miss people? Like a lot. 

Current body temperature: 98.2
Rolls of toilet paper: 2.7 cases 
Number of times I touched my face today: Hundreds, if not thousands.
Supplies: The cookies are going way too fast. 
Social distancing grade: A






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