I know a lot of you are working from home (or searching from home) due to Miss Rona.

Yes, I will call her Miss Rona because I don’t want her catching an attitude and showing more of her tail in 2021.

I have, however, been in the office full time for a few months. My 9 to 5 is in fashion photography, and that can’t be done by zoom. Well… maybe it could be, but it damn sure wasn’t. So, since April (maybe May), I have been masking up and sanitizing down to make sure you can buy that cool tee or dope sweatshirt online.

I am not going to go into a workplace rant. I want to but I just can’t do it. It is weird how this all works. For those without a job, there is the anxiety of being unable to take care of yourself and your loved ones. For those with a job, there is the anxiety of wondering when you will be furloughed next. Normal conversations you would have with your friends about how much you are overloaded with work or wish you could take a long weekend seem painfully insensitive. You are the lucky one. Right? It is the least you can suffer to have a job. Right? Only a selfish horrible person would complain. Right? I know survivor’s guilt is usually saved for those who have escaped catastrophic calamity or traumatic event. But hell after 10 months of this pandemic, increased awareness by people who usually don’t care fear of police brutality, and the economic fragility, my mind and body are tired.

Deep sigh…

My first letter to you my dear reader was not supposed to go like this. It was to be about my joy over adding two tumblers to my new, but exponentially growing collection.

I was going to introduce you to the outrageous community of people that buy Starbucks cups/tumblers from all over the world for upwards to 10x the retail cost.

I was going to hang my head in shame telling you how I fell prey to the frenzy for my Pride tumbler. Well a little shame because I am a lesbian… and I deserved that tumbler.

I was going to share with you the group of women that look just like me where we chat and celebrate our newest conquest.

I wasn’t going to tell you how they bring me small (even if ridiculous) slivers of joy, after braving public transportation and enduring temperature scans to get through the door of work.

Or how I take big gulps of water from them, every time an email goes out that another coworker has tested positive.

Or about how I wondered how much I could get for them, if my furlough was next.

This was supposed to be a different letter all together…. maybe next time.

XOXO, Kristi