Like everyone else of a certain age, I’ve experienced my share of stress — more than half of the ten “most stressful life events” according to the Holmes And Rahe Stress Scale.  But I don’t think I’ve ever experienced “group stress” on such a grand scale as the last few days.

It’s not among any activities I would ever recommend to anyone I care for.  And yet, almost everyone I know — whether friends, acquaintances, or “others” — were undoubtedly going through the same thing.  As in… no one to turn to if companionship was a possible answer to the situation.  Besides… there is Covid.  And it’s rainy and gloomy.

Tuesday night, we looked and listened and the disbelief settled in.  Yesterday, we checked with the latest news reports and both began to exhibit physical symptoms.  Nyel just plain “didn’t feel good” and slept in his wheelchair most of the day.  My left hip decided to act up and I truly worried that it was an early warning signal for a hip replacement.  I slept the afternoon away and felt a little better.  We bagged our usual healthy meal regime and resorted to comfort snacks.

Meanwhile, we did what millions of our countrymen and dozens of our  friends were probably doing — reviewed the last four years, thought about the mainstream media, wondered what the hell was wrong with the pollsters, and tried to come to grips (again!!) with what our country has come to.  I felt like I was giving up hope; realizing that perhaps hope does not spring eternal.  And trying, once again, to empathize with all of those, world-wide, who are so much worse off.  Not helpful.

Today doesn’t look to be much better.  Presumably, at ten o’clock this morning we’ll know more about Nevada… And I keep thinking that “close” only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.  Somehow, this too shall pass — but when?  Will I still be here to witness it?

Bring on the mac’n’cheese!