um, where'd it go?

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I woke up this morning and reached for my phone. This is normal, routine. Mostly so that I can snooze the alarm it's shrieking in my ear, but also so that I can check my popularity on Instagram {it's woeful} and then hop onto the BBC News app to find out what's been occurring as I was deep in slumber. So I open the app, as my habit dictates, and instantly assume I'm still dreaming; for the first time in {for ever?} weeks Corona - that insatiable nymph who sets herself no boundaries - doesn't dominate the news. In fact, one had to scroll to the sixth story to find out anything about her. Is this good? Or have we just become consumed by apathy and viral overload? I sit on the fence with Corona. We swing our bare schoolgirl legs, complete with grazed knees and scuffed Mary Jane shoes, in time to a beat only we can hear. The field behind us is full of folk who know that this is okay, it isn't the End of Times, it's nothing to worry about. A long way away, the lush green grass blends into sand, into which some people bury their heads, and yet more people jump up and down with their fingers in their ears. La la la la! they ignorantly sing. The field before us is awash with those who know this won't end well. It may not be End Times {those guys are far in the distance, living in their fully-stocked bunkers on the horizon,} but, just to be sure, let's keep the cupboards well-stocked with food, medicines and toilet paper. I don't want to appear silly and be the only one amongst my friendship and family groups to worry, but I also don't want to be ill-prepared or surprised if the sh!t really does hit the fan. So, I have plenty of toilet paper, sanitary products, cat food, toothpaste and baked beans. On our shopping expedition tomorrow evening I will quietly add hand sanitizer and bleach to the trolley. When folk around me proclaim, But it's only the flu! I simply keep my thoughts to myself, safe in the knowledge that I understand what may yet come to pass ... because I read it on reddit, didn't I? Husband spent most of the nighttime coughing. My bus driver was spitting out of his window earlier. I had a sore-throat when I woke up. And the BBC just don't care anymore. Good or bad, time will tell, and as Christmas comes along we can all have a giggle about the rocky start of the roaring {hot, feverish} 2020s.