In January, I got a haircut. I haven’t had one since, but have learned to strategically position seven mirrors, while contorting my body into a new yoga position I invented, to enable me to trim the back of my neck, with a minimum of bloodletting, after sufficient warmup, stretching, and prayer.

In February, I had a few people over to watch the Super Bowl. No one has entered my apartment since, but I saved the garbage as a memento, and to use as a continuing test of my sense of smell.

In March, I made a hole-in-one at the Old Course at St. Andrews on an indoor golf simulator, received a very nice credit to be applied toward further visits, and then received notice that the facility had shut down due to the virus.

In April, starting to feel very isolated and uncertain of the meaning of life, I sustained myself by concluding that, I Zoom, therefore I am.

In May, my car wouldn’t start and my plant died, but I soldiered on.

In June, I sucked it up and went to the dentist.

In July, I got together with friends (outdoors, with a tape measure), which, if memory serves me, used to be a thing.

In August, I ate my first quadruple chocolate cookies from Big Fat Cookie, giving me a reason to live while waiting on a vaccine.

In September, I played Pickle Ball for the first time in my life, and walked away uninjured, for the first time in my life.

In October, I changed my clocks, though my attempts to do so telekinetically failed.

In November, I recycled some light bulbs. It’s the little things.

Finally seeing hope for the future, in December I hope to start my own pre and post natal drum circle business.