Thursday, April 16, 2020

“My Crickets: A Little Decameron #21”

Last night we had clam chowder for dinner, so I couldn't serve the cricket—who surprisingly is still living and chirruping—anything but smashed blueberries and water again.  I think for the first time, our cricket moved off later into Howard's bathroom, so I guess he's come around to recognizing that my husband is benign as well.
      I keep reassuring him that he is safe in our house. Wonder what a human voice sounds like to a cricket. Since they respond only to vibrations, I suspect it must seem as something that is absolutely terrifying.
      The mourning dove is busy again this morning, but seems to moaning from another place in our garden, a bit more distant from our patio, still hooting at 9:00 a.m. 
     Haven't heard anything from the outside cricket.
      Now almost 31,000 people have reportedly died in the US. Estimates are even higher.
      22 million individuals have now filed for unemployment. 43% of small business owners say they will have to close down, many permanently. I think when this passes over, the economy will take a very long time to return even to normal, let alone to the robust one for which Trump kept patting his bottom.

Los Angeles, April 16, 2020
Reprinted from Facebook (April 2020).

No comments: