A local real estate agent cold-called me today, as they do, to offer me a free valuation of my flat. Did she know of a place I could escape to if I were to sell, I asked? Some island haven perhaps, free of despotic Covid diktats. Anyway, I asked her to call back next year if she came up with anything. ‘Twas in jest of course.
At the same time, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. And, mind you, I’m not locked out of employment, living in cramped accommodation, with two or three kids to home school. Or a small business person whose debts are piling while his or her doors have been barred shut to customers. Those situations of suffering are too nightmarish for me to contemplate.
My main problem is the mental anguish brought on by the sociopathic idiocy that has laid waste to civil society for eighteen months and which shows no sign of ceasing, if the pathetic roadmaps tell the tale. And, as an unvaccinated person, politicians and woke corporations (meaning nearly all corporations) are about to make my life even more miserable.
I don’t know whether I can hold out. No travel, no pubs, no cafes, no movies, no gym, harried and hounded. So tired, feel like giving in to the body snatchers. How to keep awake? Survival tips welcome.
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