Day 76: Six Feet Apart

I went on a little vaccine gold rush recently to a small town with a surplus. Was it wrong? Maybe, but I have my reasons and weighed my conscience, and so on a recent weekday I found myself driving through a thunderstorm in East Central Kansas, pulling up to the local Walmart mid-thunderclap, walking past entire families without masks on my way to the counter. After checking in I sat in a small booth and looked up at the ceiling and pondered whether I was morally rather than immuno compromised. It wasn't the triumphant deltoid selfie you see so often on TV. Afterwards I drove to Guy & Mae's Tavern, a small barbecue joint near the family ranch. While at the bar waiting for my slab of ribs I realized the country song on the jukebox was about wishing we weren't all six feet apart. They have country songs about this now? It was almost too perfect. And a pretty good song, too.