Eleven in the evening ... it's still a little hard to eat, but the General brought me a small chicken cheeseburger and I snorted that juicy crunchy salad bitch like it's the last cheeseburger in the world.  (Have to cut it up first, but okay. Small steps.) Now the bliss of carbs is washing over me and I am slowly forgetting my cabbage ball hurts. In a few minutes, I will be sleeping next to G, who has a little bit of a cold and is (consequently) snoring like an oversized bumblebee stuck under a plastic bucket. The vibrations are so soothing. He's really warm, too. I sleep with my damaged cheek pressed to his side tummy.

I've mulled through about thirty paints, still about a dozen to go. Sleepy a little and tired a lot. Little bit of morbid thoughts. Probably shouldn't be watching Dead Like Me. :D Wrote a 'if you're reading this, I am dead as fuck' letter to G, but it's just shit he already knows fifty times over.

If there are almost 700 infected people on Diamond Princess and the novel coronavirus has a 2.6% mortality rate on average, how come nobody died? Like, at all?