I'd rather not

die of this virus, which travels right up there at the speed of sound. Two weeks ago I dared to come out of my cave for three public events. That would have been o.k. if I'd remembered not to breathe.

I can't talk without bringing on spasms of  coughs that threaten to expunge my inner parts. I have been housebound for over a week. A case of stir-craziness is bearing down. Plus, we are experiencing what passes for winter here in California. Two days without sunshine and we get, well, sort of  "testy".

My medical doctor has shot me with drugs. There is comfort in knowing that only occasionally, an 89-year-old women is put in the slammer for overdosing.

If you are going to bring me chicken soup, wear a mask, drop off your offering, cut  and run.

There are bonuses. I listen to the best of teachers, watch the best of documentaries, enjoy old TV mysteries and listen to scripture on my cell phone by the hour.

I doubt if I'm leavin'.  If there's a blog next week, I didn't.

Love,  Jo