There is no more work; all but one freelance gig has simply disappeared with the families who have either left town or the DOE, which has cancelled school for the foreseeable future. I can’t wait to join the 500,000 New York State recently-laid-off workers who flooded the unemployment website on Monday and crashed it. At least I won’t have to fill out those complete waste-of-time job-search logs, when I do. There are no jobs, except apparently at Amazon, which is hiring 100,000 workers to fulfill all those orders for all those people “sheltering in place”.
In some ultra-bizarre twist of fate, I now have more time for writing than I could possibly conceive in my wildest dreams. No 42nd Street library, though, where I would have spent at least one weekday morning, lifting my eyes to the clouds on that glorious ceiling for inspiration.