Thursday, February 6

Thirteen days inside. I stay in bed as long as I can, savoring the memory of normalcy. Current infected numbers in China are close to 30,000 today and 376 in Chongqing. A big jump nationally, a smaller one locally, but the infection is close to our home now. Xiaolin asks me not to leave the house anymore, we have enough food to last a while. My coffee is delicious.

The newest scary thing happens on a video call with family and friends. A restaurant worker close to our home drops dead, with no symptoms. Later, I debunk the rumor: the 61-year-old woman had hidden symptoms for eight days before she collapsed and was admitted to the hospital, where she passed away. Still a tragedy, but easier to process. Her coworkers and customers are being tracked. 

Today's MasterClass is Neil DeGrasse-Tyson, one of my favorite science educators, on the scientific method. It's medicine for anxiety and unsubstantiated rumors going around. It's excellent.

In global news, Democrats can't nail orange jello to a wall.

A local community wakes up to the sound of snoring over the broadcasting system. My friend sends me her video. It goes viral. A good laugh is healthy.

Andrew is making make sour cream and perogies from scratch. When "what's for dinner" is the big question of the day, recipes are hot gossip.

Canada's embassy requests that all Canadians should leave China. Not helpful when it seems more dangerous to fly than to stay in my home. I'm not going to abandon my pets and run.

The big news in treatment: Remdesivir and Chloroquine seem promising for novel coronavirus treatment, hopefully, available by April. Fingers crossed. I really want to be back in Canada for summer.

A friend left for Vancouver via HK today. Another left to go get groceries this morning and came back to find his building had been sealed. He's in a hotel now.

Between my diary and journalism work, I'm busy. I start prepping to do video classes. Our new ETA for real classes is March 1. TBD.

We tidy the house. Xiaolin tries to put the mini vac back together and pulls her shoulder. I find her crying in the bathroom, but an hour later, she's back in bed with ibuprofen and a hot pad on her arm. Gotta be careful; we're on our own. 

For dinner, we share some are homemade fries, extra crispy, lentil soup, and steak for Lin. I exercise while we watch movies, and we go to bed.