Richard Ryan

It was a couple of weeks ago. Our good governor said that California would reopen. Bars, restaurants, gyms, toenail shops and all. Our friend Arnie, aka the Abominable Snowman, could finally get a haircut and stop scaring people. Life could return to normal. Or so we were lead to believe. Some of us were skeptical.

Then we reopened 2.1 or 2.5. I can’t remember the exact phase nomenclature. Cases spiked. Everyone had a new word, “surge,” which used to be used only by electricians working for IID. Our language is so supple, so adaptable.

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