Our normalcy is being rolled up like a field of sod.

Heads Up:  I didn't set out to write about dying, but I did. Odd, but then, this is an odd time. 

I just checked what I posted on March 28, 2019, one year ago.
 I'd posted about my book display for Women's History Month. 

I'd been setting aside books to put out this year too––
including Billy Jean King's 1982 autobiography––
but I never even got to take down the green books I'd put on display for St. Patrick's Day.

It will be weird when I go back to work eventually and see my BOOK's sitting there, artifacts of "Before".

If I go back... What if I get the coronavirus and die?

Are any of you thinking that, What if I die?

I'm haven't worried about that, really. I've worried about getting sick from this virus, which sounds frighteningly awful. I worry even more, though, about people I love getting sick. 
(And dying? 
No! THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED.)

But then I read this week's Economist and got thinking for real, this could get bad. 
Yes, I knew that, but something about the Economist's rational yet slightly quirky presentation always gets to me. It's like if Mr Spock presented a situation to you, but was interrupted--just slightly--once or twice, by Monty Python.

Here's a nice thing:
If I die, the girlettes are prepared!
They say they will wear black armbands to my funeral, because they are aware that whoever's around might not have time to sew entire outfits in black for them.
They are thoughtful like that. 

They know about funerals--remember they held one for a dead bee?
And, related, a going-away ceremony for Red Hair Girl.
They know how to chant the Sanskrit "gate gate" prayer:
"Gone, gone, beyond gone.."

So, I guess I'm set. 
Oh, no! 
Eek, I just remembered, I don't have a will. I don't own much, but I don't want it to go to my sister, who has plenty, I want to split it between bink & Mz.

I just stopped and googled will-writing, and I see on sites like Legalzoom that it's pretty easy. 
(I like their tip: "Whatever you do, don't name your pet as a beneficiary." Appoint a caretaker.
But I'm not worried because I don't have a pet.)

Uh, anyway, it seems just as likely (more likely?) I'd die getting hit by a car while I'm preoccupied by my iPhone. (I try not to get distracted, but...) than that I'll die of Covid-19.
Or something else "normal". I'm almost sixty--I've had friends die at this age of natural causes. So it isn't so odd to think the reality of death, even in ordinary times.
But it's weird, because these are not ordinary times.

You know, in all seriousness, if I did die and don't get a chance to say it, let me say now that I am deeply grateful to you blog friends and my fellow bloggers, now and in the past.
Blogging has been absolutely the ideal writing form for me, and I've loved blogging all these years (here, since 2007).
I never make myself blog--I do it because I want to.

I'm glad I have the blog now. I feel like I'm writing gibberish--I don't know what's what, but at least I can say that:

I don't know what's what.

I've been texting my friend Krista in the middle of writing this.
I wrote:
"Our normalcy is being rolled up like a field of sod."

I asked my friend if I could post some of our conversation.
Here 'tis. I'm in blue:

Anyway, as I've said before, I'm more concerned about the social changes than about being dead*:
how will I/ we, individually and as societies, rise, or sink, under the stresses?
How can I imagine a new way, and myself part of it?
How can I . . .  Be Best? (Ha. Has anyone seen Melania lately???)

Are you all thinking about that? 

And now, for something completely different: HouseMate and I are going to have Happy Hour on FaceTime with bink & Maura!
It's pouring rain out---hooray!
Wash away the winter's grit.

Fresh starts.
____________

*When I say, "I'm more concerned about social changes", I superstiously feel like I'm tempting Fate.
So:
Fate, if you're out there, I 100% do NOT mean I'm not concerned about dying too, and that it would be fine with me.
No.
Do not put me on your "OK to Die" List!!
Thank you.