Friday, February 21.

Day 28. I wake up early, in a cold sweat. Strange dreams. 
A live COVID-19 Q&A starts with Dr. John Campbell. There's more than 4000 of us tuned in, and despite his cough and cold, he patiently answers questions for hours. I make some coffee and tune in to my daily dose of my viral pathologist, Dr. Chris Martenson. I help Xiaolin put medicine on her sore shoulder. The new numbers inside China are low, and many companies in Chongqing are back to work, fantastic.

I am a little confused that we've changed counting criteria twice, once to allow for diagnostics, again to go back to PCR tests. I'm missing the black swan here, but like everyone, I am hopeful. Two of the most severe cases of Diamond Princess patients in Yokohama turn out to be Japanese government bureaucrats. BC has a new case, with some connection to Iran's emerging cluster.

My school asks my colleagues to return for 14 days of quarantine, while Canada, the US, and the UK's embassies are still advising us to leave China. I want to teach online until we get rid of travel restrictions on public gatherings. If a beer at the pub and a movie at the mall aren't safe, how can teaching be?

The seal on the fridge is loose, and I have a strange cramp in my left leg, stress? I've been sleeping funny. I rub some Arnica and stretch. I used to press 300KG, and now my calves look small and flabby. I'm another KG lighter today.

I suit up and find our number on a big white cooler wrapped in plastic by the gate. On the way back, I tear open the layering and rip the cut on my finger open. It's fish, and Xiaolin spends two hours cleaning and preparing a beautiful dinner while I decontaminate. I try to imagine being blind as I navigate my shower. This practice has three features, removing the fear of losing my sight, making me grateful I can still see, and I don't worry about any 'virus' getting in my eyes while I wash my hair.

Later, I demo a PS4 game I might start writing for when Xiaolin comes in, wanting me to prepare for class. I hold up my controller and tell her I'm busy working. It's one of those moments where we have a hard time understanding each other.

I apply for a job on a remote island community in Ireland. They're looking for a happy couple to live for free and handle their coffee shop. It's fun to dream. I'm halfway between dying for a night out in the city and wanting to buy a little cottage in Quebec and live off the land.

Close to midnight, a package text rolls in, so I suit up again. Xiaolin hasn't been outside the flat in two weeks; I'm more comfortable with our protocols, and she'd rather stay inside. Through the foggy darkness past my goggles are flashes of light, and I hear creepy violin strings around me. No one is around. It's terrifying... what a time to be alive.