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I bopped on down to a high school football field at the opposite end of Seattle and got vaccinated against COVID-19. It was all pretty smooth; I was in a serpentine line that moved steadily for maybe fifteen minutes. One and done! J&J all the way, baby.
I got to the head of the line about a half an hour early. I showed up early because I've heard so many horror stories about parking at vaccination sites plus West Seattle traffic getting routed around a closed bridge. I needn't have worried.
I also registered two days before the announcement that all adult Seattle residents were allowed to. I live with my essential worker son part time, but he's an adult, so it's not technically a multi-generational household. You know what? Driving clear across the state to soak up the doses that hayseed lie junkies don't want isn't an option for me; my son uses my car for commuting. I don't feel too much like a criminal.
The mood? A little festive. I saw two dudes in top hats. One couple danced before they went in. I thanked the dude who jabbed me for the bug juice. I waited for fifteen minutes in the wind on a beautiful, sunny spring day. Then I went home.
How do I feel? A little light headed, maybe a little headachey. I had some chills an hour ago. Curiously, my eyes feel a little dry. I've had my ex and two friends tell me to hydrate. Regarding J&J's lower effectiveness, at least within the usual two week time frame, I heard something interesting. One doctor told his patient, "We beat polio with a vaccine less effective than J&J." OK, then.
Shallow fashion details: black zip up high-low, back-lacing, leg-of-mutton-sleeved jacket from Mishu; black leggings; black patent 14-eyelet Docs; black patent collar from Sin*; Pride chain mail earrings; and MAC Sin lipstick, Studio Fix, and winged eyeliner.
I have to make dinner for my son and host a Lambert House video call tonight; I hope I can make it to bedtime. And soon I need to buy a plane ticket to Florida.
My Goddess. This collar is 31 years old now. That's vintage, isn't it? I've been its only wearer.
I got to the head of the line about a half an hour early. I showed up early because I've heard so many horror stories about parking at vaccination sites plus West Seattle traffic getting routed around a closed bridge. I needn't have worried.
I also registered two days before the announcement that all adult Seattle residents were allowed to. I live with my essential worker son part time, but he's an adult, so it's not technically a multi-generational household. You know what? Driving clear across the state to soak up the doses that hayseed lie junkies don't want isn't an option for me; my son uses my car for commuting. I don't feel too much like a criminal.
The mood? A little festive. I saw two dudes in top hats. One couple danced before they went in. I thanked the dude who jabbed me for the bug juice. I waited for fifteen minutes in the wind on a beautiful, sunny spring day. Then I went home.
How do I feel? A little light headed, maybe a little headachey. I had some chills an hour ago. Curiously, my eyes feel a little dry. I've had my ex and two friends tell me to hydrate. Regarding J&J's lower effectiveness, at least within the usual two week time frame, I heard something interesting. One doctor told his patient, "We beat polio with a vaccine less effective than J&J." OK, then.
Shallow fashion details: black zip up high-low, back-lacing, leg-of-mutton-sleeved jacket from Mishu; black leggings; black patent 14-eyelet Docs; black patent collar from Sin*; Pride chain mail earrings; and MAC Sin lipstick, Studio Fix, and winged eyeliner.
I have to make dinner for my son and host a Lambert House video call tonight; I hope I can make it to bedtime. And soon I need to buy a plane ticket to Florida.
My Goddess. This collar is 31 years old now. That's vintage, isn't it? I've been its only wearer.
