![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(no subject)
I have train tickets to New Jersey for next week.
I have pages and pages and pages open to articles about Omicron. About prevalence rates. About infectivity. About mild cases. About hospitalizations. About the level of virus particles currently detected in Massachusetts wastewater*. About COVID cases in New York City. About schools going into remote mode and Broadway canceling and-
My mother thinks that since I have the vaccine and a mask there is nothing wrong with me taking the train down to New Jersey even though this means being in the same metal tube as a bunch of people who may or may not be properly vaccinated and boostered, then passing through PENN FUCKING STATION to get to NJ Transit trains. That the worst likely to happen is a mild case. At least that seemed to be what she thought last week. Right now I don't know.
Yesterday my office went from 'we go back on the 18th!' to 'we will give you thirty days notice before calling everyone back into the office'. My mother thinks this is a smart idea.
I've had my shots. I've had my booster. I have N95s, two bags of them.
I have travel insurance. I have a guarantee from Amtrak that if I change my reservations before the day of the ticket they won't charge me a change fee.
I sent all my presents to my parents' house or to my sister's. I have tracking numbers.
I have a lung deficit. I have the lung capacity of someone eight to ten years older than me.
Penn Fucking Station. A long metal tube with no open windows.
N95s. A filled-out vaccine card.
I swear to God if I ever find the person who wrote that fucking "WHEEEEEEEEEERE ARE YOU CHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTMAS, WHY CAN'T I FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU" I will hit them as hard as I wanted to hit Shania Twain on the day that "Man, I Feel Like A Woman" started playing when I was trying to navigate Hurricane Floyd floodwaters to get to my Red Cross shelter.
But god dammit I don't want to DEAL with this and NOBODY wants to deal with this and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHGHGHGHGGHGHGHGH.
I have a meeting now. I'm sorry.
*Before you start making jokes about drinking poo, this number is a concern because it is a reflection of the number of people in roughly half the state of Massachusetts whose bodies are outputting the virus, whether they know it or not- it's a guide to viral prevalence in the population that includes people who haven't been officially diagnosed. So shut up about poo jokes. Everyone else I've mentioned this statistic to has already made the damn poo jokes. They weren't funny to start with.
I have pages and pages and pages open to articles about Omicron. About prevalence rates. About infectivity. About mild cases. About hospitalizations. About the level of virus particles currently detected in Massachusetts wastewater*. About COVID cases in New York City. About schools going into remote mode and Broadway canceling and-
My mother thinks that since I have the vaccine and a mask there is nothing wrong with me taking the train down to New Jersey even though this means being in the same metal tube as a bunch of people who may or may not be properly vaccinated and boostered, then passing through PENN FUCKING STATION to get to NJ Transit trains. That the worst likely to happen is a mild case. At least that seemed to be what she thought last week. Right now I don't know.
Yesterday my office went from 'we go back on the 18th!' to 'we will give you thirty days notice before calling everyone back into the office'. My mother thinks this is a smart idea.
I've had my shots. I've had my booster. I have N95s, two bags of them.
I have travel insurance. I have a guarantee from Amtrak that if I change my reservations before the day of the ticket they won't charge me a change fee.
I sent all my presents to my parents' house or to my sister's. I have tracking numbers.
I have a lung deficit. I have the lung capacity of someone eight to ten years older than me.
Penn Fucking Station. A long metal tube with no open windows.
N95s. A filled-out vaccine card.
I swear to God if I ever find the person who wrote that fucking "WHEEEEEEEEEERE ARE YOU CHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTMAS, WHY CAN'T I FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU" I will hit them as hard as I wanted to hit Shania Twain on the day that "Man, I Feel Like A Woman" started playing when I was trying to navigate Hurricane Floyd floodwaters to get to my Red Cross shelter.
But god dammit I don't want to DEAL with this and NOBODY wants to deal with this and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHGHGHGHGGHGHGHGH.
I have a meeting now. I'm sorry.
*Before you start making jokes about drinking poo, this number is a concern because it is a reflection of the number of people in roughly half the state of Massachusetts whose bodies are outputting the virus, whether they know it or not- it's a guide to viral prevalence in the population that includes people who haven't been officially diagnosed. So shut up about poo jokes. Everyone else I've mentioned this statistic to has already made the damn poo jokes. They weren't funny to start with.