Three-hundred and sixteen days of work-from-home and pandemic isolation, started on March 16, or 3/16 on the usual US marking.

Or, as some of my peers say, March 332.

A week of school has passed, since my last note that it was coming. For the little, that is. All is well there. We knew it would be, as they were pretty careful before the surge break, before the holidays. The class is still small, they don't rotate teachers, and the teachers now wear masks and face shields, and remind the kids to wear theirs. Before, the teachers would wear masks, and allow the kids to choose whether or not to wear theirs.

A week away from the bigger going to school. There hasn't been a lot of post-holiday surge. A little blip in early January, following rule-breaking visits for Christmas, I'm sure. There's not a lot of detail in some of the charts and diagrams to help decide how much of that is related to which activities. We're speculating, as everyone does, that the giant swell the country saw after schools opened was because of choices by some to open other things, too. Guards let down at restaurant visits, or shopping trips, or maybe related to rallies and protests around the election. There's no real breakdown to indicate what caused it, just that it happened. There are new strains, and all of the same fear and uncertainty that goes with that. Some say the vaccines work just fine, some say they simply ease symptoms, some fear they don't work at all. Again, not a lot of detail about who received a vaccine and which strain they later were exposed to or infected with.

So, we vacillate. We want her to rejoin friends. We know that it isn't the same small classes as the little has. We know there's going to be a steady decline in carefulness, when jamming at doors before and after class, or at transitions to other rooms. We can envision all manner of order and process, and then remember these are 8-10 year-olds, so intent is not always actual.

Work presses on. Winter continues.

I do seem to have come to terms with my nagging shoulder ache. In typical Web Doctor fashion, looking up a suspected ailment seems to match my current condition. Of course, by that logic, I've got 11 of 12 COVID symptoms already, and have had for years and many winters past. But the shoulder does hurt in the prescribed location and exacerbates with the described motions, and impacts the suggested other muscles and joints. It seems I may have damaged my rotator cuff. I always thought of this as a skeletal injury, but I was wrong. It's tendons, ligaments, and muscles. I can't really reach over my head with my right arm, and reaching behind, like to tuck in a shirt or take my phone from my back pocket, is no longer uncomfortable, but is painful. Right in the shoulder, down my back, and through my tricep. If I do move wrong with weight more than my phone, it can rip through my elbow and hurt in my forearm, too.

I made it real yesterday as I shoveled some snow and cleared some ice from the sidewalk. Pushing the snowblower (it is small, but not self-propelled) on the drive was hit or miss shoving my elbow behind my back as the blower jammed against obstacles, and each was a test of my constitution and willpower to continue. Shoveling the sidewalks and chipping the ice in front really demonstrated how many muscle groups are used to fling snow a few feet.

Alas, while it sucks getting old, I'd rather do that than die too young. I've got an easy dozen years to finish before the little is done with primary school stuff. Hopefully another dozen after while they stop being foolish young adults, and settle into being good adults. Maybe in that time we'll get to escape the winters, and move to the tropical commune or retirement yurt. One can hope.

Except for shoulder pain, and some house-recycling-air related sniffles, everyone is healthy.