I had a Thanksgiving post scheduled to go, yesterday.

I pulled it at the last minute because it didn’t really fit my current mood. I’m not sure that it would have fit anybody’s current mood.

I had a pretty mellow Thanksgiving this year. Just two of us, and not at Waffle House, either. All said and done, the things I burned, myself, were probably just as high-quality as the things that Waffle House burns for us.

There were two covid deaths in my (extended) family since I scheduled my Thanksgiving post. Funerals at a later date. (Of course.)

The thing about that is that no matter how close you were (or weren’t) to the person who died, you find yourself mentally working through your family.

If he had it, and I know that he came into contact with her… Did she expose her elderly parents?

Probably.

It becomes terrifyingly easy to see how a few bad choices could decimate an entire family or an entire town. You think about each of your relatives, and their medical conditions, and the likelihood that they would say no to a visit from their child or grandchild.

You become consciously aware of how many of your friends and family members have underlying conditions.

You count out the incubation period. Fourteen days from the Thanksgiving holiday is… December tenth? And the extra weekend? All the way to the fourteenth.

Is my mask good enough? Is he wearing his? Can I dip you in hand sanitizer? (Just as friends.) Yes. You can Lysol me.

At the moment, all I can say is be safe.