text: Things don’t sound that bad here so far - not like some other places anyway, in the news. But there *have* been cases. Nobody seems to be taking it seriously; the supermarket’s traffic and supply situation seemed normal enough. Well, except for my own two carts filled to the brim. Cashier didn’t say a word, of course, but her eyes clearly said “look at this crazy woman, look how paranoid she is about what’s gonna turn out to be just a whole lot of noise and fuss for nothing”. Well, check-out lady, I can’t afford to take any chances. Not with my lupus. Which is why what you’re seeing is, in fact, only a small portion of my preparations - vegetables, eggs, juice, mostly stuff that goes bad faster, and couldn’t have been bought in bulk when the first wave of deaths started hitting the news. Because, yes, I’m in this for the long haul. Nothing’s closed yet, and the government isn’t really mandating anything other than “wash your hands”, but I’m not waiting for them. And if my job won’t let me home-office, I’m taking all the three months I’ve racked up. Don’t know if that’s enough - I’m set up to go on a lot longer than that - but, if it gets to that, I suspect losing my job will be the least of my problems. **Day 2 of quarantine.** House cleaning is tough work. Gotta do it more often. Used up almost a whole bottle of bleach - it’s alright though, I’ve got six more. Besides, I don’t expect any more contact with the outside until it’s all over; better err on the side of caution early on and make my space safe. It was hell on my skin, of course, which isn’t helped by my condition, but I’ve got several months’ worth of cream, so I should be fine. **Day 3 of quarantine.** If I keep going through my cream at this rate, I’m running out within 9 weeks. Is it really just the bleach? I’d rather avoid corticoids as long as possible, but who knows. There *shouldn’t* be any other allergens or toxins around. What have I forgotten? Wait... do you disinfect groceries? I’ll look it up. *Shit.* **Day 4 of quarantine.** Wow... I *did* buy a whole lot of stuff. Good news is, the guidelines I’ve found about home sanitizing call for a much lower concentration of bleach than I’d been using. Cleaned a lot more than the other day, with barely half a bottle. The bad news, of course, is that it’s all over my food and personal effects. Don’t know whether or not it clears out over time, or what that’s doing to me, but at least I’m not getting the bug. Allergies I can manage, I’ve got a bunch of corticoids. Oh yeah, first local death. With so many places going on lockdown, people are starting to grumble about it here. Who’s the paranoid one now, huh? **Day 5 of quarantine.** Rashes still bad, started on corticoids. Well, that’s life, I guess. Wonder how Mom’s doing. Almost starting to wish we were on speaking terms. *Almost.* Oh, yeah... there’s one problem I hadn’t anticipated. How am I taking out the trash? I mean, I gotta do it, but then the perimeter gets breached. Well, I guess it’s fine if I follow the script when I get back - clothes straight into the washing machine, my own ass straight into the shower, and bleach up everything I’ve touched on the way in. **Day 6 of quarantine.** Went outside to take out the trash. People *really* aren’t getting it, are they? Street’s a little quieter, sure, but there are still *way* too many people around. I’m sweating bullets right now, but I guess that’s just the stress. Even after the whole decontamination routine, I don’t really *feel* clean. Irrational, I know. Thank God for YouTube. Can you imagine, managing just on books and stuff? I’d go nuts in a day. **Day 7 of quarantine.** Do I have a fever? I thought it was just cold, but my shirt’s soaked. I’m not coughing. That means I haven’t caught it, right? No, it’s the lupus. It’s gotta be. Otherwise... no, I’m just being paranoid. Of course that’s it. **Day 8 of quarantine.** Who knew Netflix’s inventory of true-crime shows was so vast? I’m set for *life* here. Fever isn’t letting up. Anti-inflammatories help, but not completely. Trying real hard not to think about it. **Day 9 of quarantine.** I’ve been avoiding the news for the most part, but I can’t help it. Local cases are exploding. Measures are finally being put in place. Too little, too late, and too many selfish economic interests getting in the way. I get that your business takes a hit if you shut down everything non-essential that can’t be done from home, but is that worth risking your life for? Risking everyone *else’s* lives? Do you really wanna go down in history as the guy who sued to keep your factory running, and making auto parts at that, rather than filter masks or patient respirators? Are you sticking a carburetor into your mouth when you come down with it and can’t breathe? Speaking of which, my breathing is thin. It still fits with the lupus, and it’s not like I haven’t been like this before, but it’s also hard to ignore. That’s two symptoms now. Should I get tested? I mean, that means going out again, and we really don’t want that. And they also say hospitals are getting swamped soon, so you shouldn’t bother them until it’s real bad. But how bad is bad? **Day 10 of quarantine.** My God, the floor. I washed it on the first day, but when I took out the trash, I only disinfected what I touched with my *hands*. I’m so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUUUUUPID. Spread it all over my house by now too. That’s it. Gotta be, it’s obvious. *Fuck.* **Day 11 of quarantine.** Welp, not getting any cleaner than this. Did the whole house over again, another half bottle of bleach down too. Everything I’ve worn since it all started is washing too, for good measure. And the fever’s subsiding. Dunno if it’s the workout, or if it’s going to relapse, or what. **Day 12 of quarantine.** Fever’s really gone, it seems. Not that it necessarily means anything... several people have relapsed from the disease by now. Probably shouldn’t have looked that up, but, y’know. And since we’re on that topic, things are really serious out there. Roads getting closed, supermarket shelves empty, people being fined for milling about on the streets. Finally. **Day 13 of quarantine.** It’s silly, but I almost didn’t write this. But ah, what the hell, who’s gonna read it? I’m writing this mostly to stay sane. So yeah... the big news today is, I finally managed to masturbate for the first time since I locked myself up. Thinking back on... well, pretty much any day I’ve had to myself before, it’s hard to believe I couldn’t do it up to now, between the stress, fever and everything. That’s a good sign, right? Things are looking up. **Day 14 of quarantine.** Trash’s starting to smell real bad. I think I’m going out again. I know what I have to do now. This is going to be completely air-tight. **Day 15 of quarantine.** THAT FUCKING SON OF A BITCH! How can people be so fucking SELFISH?! I thought 6 am would be completely dead - hell, it is *normally* \- but no, that asshole had to be out jogging. JOGGING! What the FUCK was he thinking? And he SNEEZED! I’m pretty sure I heard that! This is actually fucking *criminal*. I hope the bastard ends up in jail. I’ve done a full, really thorough clean-up, of course, but who knows. And, between the bleach and all the extra scrubbing in the shower, my rashes are killing me. Fuck it, I’m doing corticoids, not gonna wait around on that one. **Day 16 of quarantine.** Finally caved and reached out to Mom. Well... tried to. Turns out all her contacts are out of date. I could start asking around, but with things the way they are, people could take it the wrong way and think there’s something wrong. Last thing I need is them panicking over me again. For all the good they’d do, the useless bastards. Thank God for social media... I could never face this alone. Not *ever*. **Day 17 of quarantine.** Breathing is tough again. I’m getting chills, but like *hell* I’m taking my temperature. I can’t handle this right now. If I’ve got it, what the hell can I do? I’m laying down on the couch, cold pizza on my lap, big bottle of soda by my side, true crime on TV, and I’m not budging my ass from here until tomorrow at the earliest. **Day 18 of quarantine.** I’m cleaning the house again. Aside from the basic hygiene, what if I brought the bug back with me? Not in my clothes or on my skin, but inside me? I’d have contaminated the whole damn house right back. But if that was the case, then what’s the point? If I’ve got it, I’ve got it, and no cleaning is changing that. If I don’t, shouldn’t the clean-up I did be enough? Or did I miss something? What did I miss? Eh, chalk it up to hygiene, if you will. I’m cleaning the *fuck* out of my house. **Day 19 of quarantine.** Just noticed how fat I’ve been getting. Is it the stress-eating? The lack of exercise? The corticoids? Girl, get a grip on yourself. You’ve stocked up on a lot of stuff, but that doesn’t include plus-size clothing. And speaking of corticoids, those rashes ain’t going away. Gotta use up that cream, girl. Also, just noticed I’ve started talking to the mirror. Eh, it’s normal, really. People aren’t built for this sort of lack of human contact, I suppose it’s a perfectly normal coping mechanism. But maybe I should start doing some classes on Zoom or something. I mean, I talk to people, but I don’t *talk* talk to people. What else am I supposed to do, call ‘em on the phone? Who even *does* that anymore? **Day 20 of quarantine.** I’m starting to worry about the trash. It never stops piling up, of course, but I wonder if it’s really a good idea to take it out. Last time was a fucking disaster. What’s worse, run-of-the-mill infection from keeping garbage indoors, or catching that thing out there? And besides, I keep thinking about those hoarders from TV. I could never forgive myself if I got like that. Although... it would be just temporary, of course, just until this all blows over. Well, I guess I still have a couple days before I really need to decide what to do about this. **Day 21 of quarantine.** There’s been looting out there. I’m starting to get really worried. Well, I was before, but this is something else. I mean, they *know* it’s a terrible idea to go outdoors. Took them long enough, but I think people get it by now. So, if they get out there to do that, that means they’re desperate. And who knows what desperate people can do? And, on a globally less bad but personally worse note, my internet’s out. How the hell am I supposed to pass time now? I don’t have regular TV anymore, it’s all Netflix and YouTube. I’ve been calling my provider, of course, but can’t get anyone human on the line. I suppose they’ve got the barest skeleton crew running now, if at all, what with the lockdown measures, but they *have* to have people out there taking calls. Internet’s an essential service - even if it wasn’t for all those people at home right now, the information has to flow, especially at a time like this, right? So I’ll keep trying. **Day 22 of quarantine.** Still no dice with the internet. I’m not back in the Stone Age, of course - I’ve still got cellular data to back me up until I get this figured out. I’m trying to avoid using it up with stuff like videos, which really eat up the bandwidth, if only to save my cell for any emergency, but it’s hard to resist the temptation. I mean, we’re home all day long, what are we supposed to do? Mobile games only get me so far. **Day 23 of quarantine.** Today I’ve yelled at the mirror. It’s not her fault, of course, but I’m feeling really, really frustrated. I think I just needed a human face to yell at, to express my anger and desperation to. Am I desperate? You do look desperate. You’ve got bags under your eyes, your rashes are out of control, your clothes are a mess, your hair’s all over the place. You need to get it together, girl. Get it the fuck together, for our sake. **Day 24 of quarantine.** It’s been a few hours’ work, digging around technical forums and chatting with the nerdiest nerds out there, but I’ve come to a verdict. My modem is officially on the fritz. They’re guessing it was a power surge. Don’t we have, like, surge protectors on everything these days? I didn’t know this kind of thing still even happened. I looked it up, and yeah, there was a storm the day it went out, maybe we got hit by lightning. How the fuck could we not have noticed that? I mean, I’ve been keeping all my windows shut of course, but I should be able to hear a thunderstorm, or at least a fucking thunder strike. Still, I gotta get this shit fixed *stat*. This means someone from the company at least walking in with the replacement, or even doing the install, but it’s getting hard to survive like this. Momma need her Netflix. I’ll just bleach it all the fuck to Hell afterwards. Why doesn’t *anyone* respond? **Day 25 of quarantine.** It was getting impossible to move around in the kitchen from all the trash, so I’ve had to move it to the laundry room. It’s not like I was using it anyway, not for a long time. And my joints hurt like a motherfucker. You look like hell, lady. Just a walking pile of garbage. Why don’t you do something? Do something, damn you! **Day 26 of quarantine.** Between my joints and the fever coming back, I’ve spent all day in bed today. Only remembered to call the internet people a couple times though, been putzing on the internet on my phone all day. Whole world’s going to Hell, it seems. There’s news of rioting. Can you imagine that? Rioting? Getting a bunch of people out there together, with the disease going around? They’re actually getting crazy - like, really, literally insane. **Day 27 of quarantine.** I can’t fucking believe it. No FUCKING way. Now I’ve lost my cell phone too? I mean, not literally lost it, not that I’ve really gone anywhere - it’s been another day in bed. But it not only has got no internet, it can’t even call?! I mean, with the internet, I get it, and I should’ve seen it coming. I’ve always known my data plan wouldn’t last long this way, but I somehow pretended not to see it. But calling? Is it tied to the data plan? How the fuck do they actually get away with that? I’d look my phone contract up, if I had, I don’t know, ANY means of communication to do it with. I mean, I’ve always made fun of those old people who still had landlines, but who’s the idiot now, huh? **Day 28 of quarantine.** I finally made it out of bed. I’m cleaning the house again. It stinks to high heaven. Well, I stink to high heaven too, come to think of it. I really need a shower. A really, really long shower. **Day 29 of quarantine.** I still can’t believe there’s no phone at all. Tried turning it off and back on, battery out and in again, anything I could think of, and still nothing. Is it just my plan, or are phones down, like, in general? I mean, could I call emergency services? You can always do that, right? Without a plan or anything? I’m not sure I wanna try it, though. They’re probably really busy right now, a lot of bad stuff going down, last thing they need is some paranoid girl just making sure she has *some* connection to the rest of the world. Besides... what if I find out I can’t even do that? **Day 30 of quarantine.** Had a really good laugh today, and a really good cry too. Like, really doubled over, doing... either. Don’t even remember when did one stop and the other start. Thing is, the other day, I didn’t want to call around asking about Mom. Now that I can’t... I really, really wish I could. I need her a lot right now. A whole lot. I mean, I guess I need *anyone*, but Mom... even with all the bad blood, I can’t stop thinking about her. **Day 31 of quarantine.** Been looking out the front window a lot lately, wondering what’s out there. Street’s all cleared up... guess people *did* get the hint after all. But it’s not *completely* empty though, and that’s the problem. Right now, there’s an old woman slowly dragging a bag of groceries. Don’t even want to wonder where or how she got that at this point. What’s she doing out? I mean, she looks at the top of the risk spectrum. Isn’t there anyone who can do that for her? She stopped to look at me. You know what... I’m not even mad. It’s gotta be really, really lonely out there. Especially for her, if she’s got nobody to get her those supplies. I can’t even... Oh, my God. She *coughed*. I’m outta here. Bye, lady! **Day 32 of quarantine.** Joints are especially bad today. On the other hand, the fever’s clearing up. I think. I’m not taking my temperature... haven’t done that in a long time, actually. I feel better off not knowing. And the windows are all sealed now. I don’t even care how that looks or what. I’ve got a lot more garbage bags than I need, so I’m using those and tape to seal everything up. Under the doors too, and the mail slot, just to be sure. All my air can come in through the AC, at least that’s got a filter. Not taking any chances here. I really, *really* can’t afford to get infected, not with my condition. **Day 33 of quarantine.** I moved my tall mirror from the bedroom to the living room, by the couch. That’s where I’ve been spending most of my time, and I could really use the company. I mean, I hate the way she looks at me, but that’s better than being alone. Getting real hard to stand the loneliness. **Day 34 of quarantine.** Something just occurred to me... how do I get to know when it’s safe to come out? I keep telling myself - and *her* \- what I’m going to do when it’s over... but when *is* that? If I can’t read or watch any news, if I’m completely cut off from the outside world, if there’s no information... how do I know? Then again, *if* it’s actually still not safe out there... I couldn’t take that risk, could I? There are models that see this pandemic going on for three, four, five months. There are waves, it could come back. Can I afford to take my chances? Do... do I have a choice? I think I’ll just hang tight for as long as I can. I think, if it clears up, people will reach out to me somehow. They’ll, I dunno, come here, do something. I’ll hear something. I don’t know how, but I’ll know. Until I do... I’m stuck here. **Day 35 of quarantine.** Been showering a lot lately... just had my second shower today, and it’s not even noon. Which reminds me... the water’s safe, right? I mean, it’s supposedly an airborne virus, it doesn’t come in the water. Or could it? How long would it survive in a water stream? I’d look it up, if only I could. God, I miss reading about this disease online. It was stressful, yeah, but the information was *there*. Still is, of course, I just can’t get to it. And there you have it - never imagined I’d miss freaking out about it online, but I do. But yeah... water. It’s gotta be safe, right? They kept telling us to wash our hands, they wouldn’t if it made it worse. It’s fluoridated and whatnot. Right? What do you think? Say, something, dammit, don’t just look at me like that! **Day 36 of quarantine.** Getting harder and harder to exercise. Not that I’d done a lot of that, but at least I’ve been trying to keep myself active. But it’s hard to ignore the siren’s call of the couch. And the mirror, of course. **Day 37 of quarantine.** She’s such a good listener. I haven’t opened up like this in *years*. About Mom, my condition, my so-called friends, sex, I dunno, *everything*. Not with therapists, not with anyone. Wish I’d met her sooner. I mean, she was there all the time, just watching in silence, waiting for me to reach out... could’ve done that sooner. She’s been always there for me. **Day 38 of quarantine.** Why do I even have a book about the history of typographics around? This must’ve been Dad’s, he was weird enough for that. Anyway, I’m now officially all out of books. Not that I’ve been able to focus on them, really, I mostly leafed through them. **Day 39 of quarantine.** Heard some people outside today. Seemed really loud too, like they were yelling. Couldn’t make out what they were saying - this house’s soundproofing is really good, I guess. Are they looters? They sounded crazed. You know how people get when they’re desperate... I’m really scared here. **Day 40 of quarantine.** Why won’t she talk back to me? I’m feeling so lost here. So... alone, I wanna say, even though I’m really not. But it does feel that way. Why does she have to be so cold? **Day 41 of quarantine.** I worry about my soap supply. I bought what I thought would be enough to last several months, but I’m not so sure about that now. It’s never clean enough, and these rashes... there’s gotta be something in them, something *bad*. I know, cream, but still. I need to be clean. **Day 42 of quarantine.** Looters outside again. I think they’re getting closer. Triple-checked all my locks, of course, and barred the doors with chairs for good measure. This is really frightening. Girl, I need you. I really do. I really, really, really, *really* need you. **Day 43 of quarantine.** The girl in the mirror started to talk back. This feels a bit weird, but I’m relieved. I *knew* I could count on her. She makes so much sense. How could I not get it? It’s all so clear now. I’m so, *so* glad I have her. **Day 44 of quarantine.** Finished shaving everything off. It was hard to let go of my hair... I’ve always been proud of my full-bodied, leonine mane, but it’s what needed to be done. My arms, legs and armpits, of course, I’d been slacking on that because who the hell’s going to see me? The *disease*, that’s who. Gone. Pubic too, smooth like a baby. And my eyebrows... eyes are a vulnerable entry point for infection, right? And they’re right there! I was so irresponsible... but that’s all better now. Everything gone, all the hair gathered up and burnt. My rashes hurt like hell, and I look like a ghost now from all the cream, but I haven’t felt this clean in my whole life. **Day 45 of quarantine.** Looters are finally at my door. They tried knocking to get my attention, to see if I could be lured out there. And I wanted to. God knows I wanted to. I just wanted this all to be over. Thank God I’ve got her here with me to help me stay strong. She whispered to me about their danger, about the violence they would inflict on me, about the infection they wanted to bring into the house. She whispered for me to stay strong and be absolutely quiet. Now that they’re gone, I feel like I can finally breathe. **Day 46 of quarantine.** She looks at me sadly. I’m still not completely clean, I can feel it, and she agrees. But she won’t tell me what do I need to do to be finally clean. I’m afraid I’m not ready, and she knows that. But I’m getting there. **Day 47 of quarantine.** I asked her about the bleach. She merely smiled. Sometimes, she can say so much with so little! I thanked God for putting her in my life, soaked a washcloth in bleach, and gave myself a thorough cleaning. It stings, sure, a *lot*, and my rashes look like my skin’s been flayed, but I’m clean. Even cleaner than before. Is it enough, though? She just smiles, sadly. **Day 48 of quarantine.** I finally understand it now. Looking back at this log here, I can see I clued in to it a while ago, but it escaped my mind somehow. Thing is, I’m clean on the *outside*. My insides, though? I can feel that *thing* bubbling, writhing in there. It makes me sick to my stomach, now that I notice it. It’s so obvious now... how come I’ve never seen it before? And it’s simple, so simple to solve it. So, I guess I’m prepared. Another full, really close shave for good measure, a long shower to wash it all off, and one more bleach scrubbing to be sure. I feel like I’m literally on fire right now, burning from head to toe. This must’ve been how the witches who were burned at the stake back in the day felt. She assured me it’s good - after all, there’s nothing more cleansing than fire, right? And the fire I feel all over my skin, even though invisible, is still burning all the infection away. On the outside, though. There’s still the inside to clean. With my last scrubbing, there’s little more than half a bottle of bleach left. I checked with her, and she said that’s enough. With it, my cleansing will be complete, and I’ll finally be free. This will all be behind me. A new, pure life awaits. So, I’m ending this journal here. I don’t think I’ll need it anymore. Once I’ve chugged this bottle, I will finally be clean enough to leave the quarantine.