Today is an anniversary of sorts that is nothing to celebrate but rather one that brings words like sulk, frown and pout to mind.

It was eight months ago that the severity of COVID-19 really hit us for the first time when we saw the pro and college sports world come to an immediate stop.  The very next day President Trump declared the coronavirus a national emergency and it’s fair to say it has been all downhill ever since.

Who among us really though eight months ago we would be dealing with this to the extent we are and if these eight months have not been brutal enough the next couple look like another mountain to climb.  Just when we thought the corner had been turned and life was getting closer to normal in the summer here comes the predicted increase in positive tests as winter approaches.

What comes with that is tighter restrictions and the thought of these next few months even coming close to what we dealt with last spring is enough to make you sick. I didn’t mean for that to be cute.

I’d like to think you at least know that I take my words very seriously in this daily segment so with that said I have hit a wall when it comes to all of this.  I am mentally exhausted with everything surrounding this pandemic from the interruption in life as we know it to the fact that so many make this all about politics.

At times I feel physically beat up even though I haven’t done anything in months.  I keep saying I want to get back to the gym, even if it’s just for some cardio but simply can’t push myself to do it.  I’m both frustrated and ticked off at an opponent that seemingly can’t be beaten until we find a vaccine.

It doesn’t help that many refuse to cooperate with some of the basic things that may offer some general assistance but I’m not going there today. It will only spark debate and I’m not looking for that.

All I want is to be able to do is plan things, whether work-related or personal, for next week, next month and next year.  Yet we get up each morning and truly don’t even know what that day will bring.

Eight months and counting. The end can’t come soon enough.


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