So I’m at home with Klara until her HFMD clears. The bad part is that I can’t take her to any of the places where we normally like to go (the children’s museum, the bookstore’s kid corner, the playgrounds) because this virus is very contagious. So I have to entertain her at home or in depopulated areas. And she’s unwell, so she needs every ounce of my attention and more.
Unlike many kids with this virus, she hasn’t lost her appetite, so I need to find the time to cook for her. And for us. And prepare N’s lunches that he takes to work. Plus, I can’t just suspend all work on my article. I’m on a deadline, and nobody will wait for me to finish.
Plus, I’m in the midst of a home-improvement project that entails people coming to the house to do work.
Plus, I’m in a health-management program (diabetes prevention) and I need to see doctors.
All this means that I need to plan everything extra carefully to make sure I manage to do everything in the small pockets of time when Klara is asleep or with N. I’m literally desperate for a few minutes here and there to do stuff that needs to be done.
And then I go to Chronicle of Higher Ed and see people bitch about the intolerable hardship of having too much free time on their hands in the summer and fret about pronouns. Dumb fuckers.