Ugh, I'm so sick of Covid—am I right? I feel like every day is the same: wake up, do some work, watch a movie, go to bed. When will this pandemic just be over so we can actually hang out with people again?
I mean, other than seeing you guys right now—which is, like, hallelujah!—I haven't seen anyone other than my roommates and their partners since last night. Oh—don't worry, it was just dinner with Sam and Audrey. And their kid. And Megan stopped by for maybe an hour. But we wore masks and everything, except when we were having dinner. And I felt safe because it's a pretty big table, which was so funny because it made it harder to hold hands when we were all singing “Don't Stop Believin'” at the top of our lungs. Man, I needed that—it was just, finally, a sense of community, you know?
Plus, they're all in my pod. I'm so strict about my pod. I just tell everyone I see: dude, I'm not even gonna talk to anyone outside it. You guys should join! There're only 53 people in it, so we could totally fit you. I'm like: “Not today, Covid—I'm in a pod.” And I'm lucky because everyone in it is super careful, like me.
I really miss the gym, though. But obviously, I'm glad it's closed because people are so irresponsible. And David has a really good setup so we all just go over there. You'd think in such a tight space, it would be hard to do much, but we really work up a sweat. Everyone's panting like a dog; it's so embarrassing! We just have to shut all the windows and crank up the AC.
You guys have been looking more and more stressed since I got here. Believe me, I get it! The mental toll of this whole thing. My therapist has been teaching me these breathing exercises that are actually kind of amazing. He calls it “simultaneous breathing.” Basically, you just sit side by side and put your hands on each other's chests, and breath in deeply, two, three, four, and then out, two, three, four, but the trick is that you're inhaling while the other person is exhaling. You get this, like, cosmic connection, like you're sharing what's inside of you, or something. Here, I can show you if you just–
Oh, no, I totally understand. Mindfulness isn't for everyone.
But I'm still feeling a bit “meh,” especially about the holidays. I mean, do you remember what travel even is? I feel like I haven't left town since I was in Vegas last week. And man, the plane ride was something else. I'm looking around from my seat, like, “Why are all you guys traveling? Do you not even read the news?”
Anyway, I was barely there - just four days, plus an extra week for a Grand Canyon road trip—and the whole time I was thinking, “can you still call this Vegas when everything's so different?” I had to use hand sanitizer every time someone blew on my dice. Plus the parties were lame, and no one I made out with was above, like, a six. At least I learned something, though: group sex is way more awkward than hot.
Anyway, I feel like I'm losing my marbles with all this seclusion. Like I could swear you guys were sitting closer to me when I got here! I've obviously gone stir-crazy.
And it's only gonna get worse—this is gonna be the weirdest Christmas ever. But, you know, gotta be safe. So we're doing a Zoom thing. It will just be me, Andrea, my parents, their parents, my aunt and uncle, and some folks I met in Vegas flying in, and they'll just come over and Zoom with our cousins in North Carolina. And we'll obviously space out the chairs and stuff—our basement is big. I know you guys are being really careful, so maybe you're not going home for the holidays? You should come! Just bring your own iPads for, like, maximum safety—I'm a total worrywart about this stuff.
You probably think I'm nuts.