This blog is certainly not the place for hard hitting Pandemic news or reliable Data, but what I do have, what I ALWAYS do have, are feelings. Today, I saw this tweet and am reflecting on Worry. I think being pregnant through the first 6 months of all of this focused my worry from an unknowable respiratory virus to the person growing inside of me. I couldn’t handle worrying about Both, so I chose Joe. I think that’s sort of remained true. I try and stay safe and informed, but I also try not to be consumed. Every day there’s new variants and warnings and recommendations and studies. Omicron is a soccer shoe I used to wear, Masks are useful virus-slowing face decorations, boost me please in the right arm, not the left. I don’t even know anymore. To an extent, I have a choice. A dream is a wish your heart makes, and Worry is a pot of honey your brain decides to stick your whole hand into. I can choose to worry, or not worry. I can protect myself from Worry. Now if I could just convince myself that this is how worry works in LITERALLY EVERY OTHER FACET OF MY LIFE, THAT WOULD BE GREAT.