So, last night I got back home from the hospital at about 4:30 pm and saw my neighbor Vanessa up on this large deck that is shared by the folks in the 50 apartments that are part of the complex. She was helping her co-worker Jane record herself reading a storybook to the preschool children they both teach, from whom they are now separated by the coronavirus.

The story was Grumpy Monkey, about a little monkey that wakes up one day, out of sorts, and resists all attempts to snap him out of it. There was no discernible reason why the monkey was grumpy. Beautiful day. Everything's fine. But he was grumpy, nonetheless.

Well, these days, there is reason to be grumpy, but somehow I'm not. Tired, certainly. A little scared, check. But not grumpy. I might even be energized. I certainly feel purposeful. Sometimes crises demand that you just rise to the occasion. All the extraneous stuff seems to drop away. I'm grateful for whatever is happening. I'll be grumpy later.