The problem isn’t “day 3”. The problem is “of xx”.
Life goes on at The Asylum. I escaped again to go for a walk. One of the other residents was going out at the same time to ride his bike.
This is the President and CEO of our institutions. And last night in a priceless PR move, he took over one of the most visible but certainly most menial jobs in the house. Checking workers in. And taking temperatures. In addition to being seen by every employee going on and off shift – most of the residents wander past that desk on their way to pick up their box-o-dinner. Well played. Very well played.
And, this is our bartender. He is on hand for takeout orders from our closed saloon. Get your martini in a to-go cup.
Finally, one of our dining rooms has been turned into a staging area and storage space for all those boxes and paper cups that we have been going through. At this rate, there will be a shortage of clamshell food boxes by next month.
No sign that any of our residents have gotten sick yet and no one has died since March 4. But, I just saw a buzzard swoop by my window.
Mālama pono