I want to sit and think and write and read and drink coffee and hide from the world. I want to be in the world among people with no fear or concern for a virus or such.

I want to laugh and I want to weep.

I want to fix the things that are wrong with my house and I want a new house.

I want to wake up from this funk and I want to sleep. I want to smile and I want to grimace.

I want to say I told you so and I want to hope for better things. I want to be right.

I want to be acknowledged. I want to make a contribution.

I want to shout and I want to pray. I want to sing and I want to mourn.

My own Ecclesiastes moment is here. Now. And vanity of vanities, all is vanity. Empty. Nothing. Chasing after the wind. A time to and a time to not.

Sound and fury, signifying nothing.