Wednesday, March 18, 2020
My husband is an engineer. He is part of the supply chain.
So he must go to work.
If he doesn't go to work, and if his colleagues don't go to work, too
Men (and some women) will not be able to weld.
If they cannot weld, there will be no ship building.
That is all I imagine.
I'll tell him about this later,
That I picture the work he does supporting only huge creaky patchwork metal barges.
Not cargo ships. Not cruises.
But sci-fi steampunk ships.
Kevin Costner's Waterworld ships.
I get to work from home because I am not part of the supply chain.
I work in corporate communications.
I am mostly useless. Contribute mostly nothing.
And yet, I get to stay safe-ish at home.
Working on my work laptop that looks alien on my home desk.
Typing words about our year in review, etc.
When all people want to know is: will my partner die? will my parents die? will I lose my mind, my house, my retirement funds?
But I write about our year in review, etc.
From home, safe-ish.
Losing my mind. My retirement funds.
The beginnings of something in my throat.
Maybe Kevin Costner Waterworld gills.