• Driving on the freeway, especially to L.A.
• The car breaking down suddenly, especially on the freeway
• Earthquakes
• My dog getting heartworm, despite medicine
• Gaining 3 - 5 lbs inexplicably
• Elevators: feeling trapped as well sudden drops 
• Airplanes: ditto, elevator feelings
• Long-haul flights: because of too much time in the air
• Short-haul flights: because of the cramped space, due to less time in the air
• Small lavvies sans windows, in historic buildings (There's a story. It involves Amsterdam's Red Light District, expensive macaroons and the phrase "Don't Panic".)
• Should I go to the dermatologist for a general, skin cancer once-over?
• Am I too pale?
• Ugh. Is that a tan line?!
• Chemicals in my beauty products
• Aluminum in my deodorant
• What if my tree and grass allergies get worse? (Landscapers are here daily.)
• Am I allergic to bees? (How would I know, as I've only been stung once, in 4th grade? Allergies can develop later in life.)
• What if there are ghosts?
• What if there are no ghosts?
• Can people see the scuffs on my heels? (Does it matter, if they're Chanel? Or, does that make it worse?)
• Am I obsessive about using lint rollers?
• Can people tell my hem is safety-pinned? (Does it matter, if it's Ralph Lauren? Or, does that make it worse?)
• I love hotels, but how germy are they, really?
• What if I have to fly to Europe soon?
• What if I don't get to fly to Europe soon?
• I love going to Europe, but can I get there sans flying? (Sure, I could take a cruise, but cruises are gross. Maybe I could charter a yacht, but the open sea terrifies me.)
• The open sea: especially flying over it for five hours.
• Will my husband eventually buy a boat and make me sail to Tahiti?
• Sharks
• Bears
• What if I have to go camping again?
• What if I never get to go camping again?
• Will my books ever sell, like really sell? (I kind of want a 5BR/4BA brick Georgian with a potage garden and a Porsche in the circular, oyster-shell driveway.)
• Snakes on the patio (I once saw a dead rattlesnake on the main intersection near our house; I also saw a gardener snake on the patio one time, and another one at our front door a different time! Maybe the same guy? I named him Rick Scott the Friendly Snake, because my husband says he's friendly, plus he looks a lot like former governor/current U.S. senator from FL, Rick Scott. James Carville looks like a mean snake.)
• Lizards getting in the house
• Coyotes leaping the fence, roaming the patio overnight, sniffing where my doggie lives
• Mice and rats on the patio and/or getting in the house
• Birds flying into the patio doors and hurting themselves

Fact: none of my concerns are based on actual, pending doom; they are concerns based on perceived dangers of worst-case fantasies. Most things on my list I can either control or rely on personal and statistical history to prove they are not worthy of sapping my energy. Even where air-travel is concerned, I simply order another Gin and Tonic, upgrade to extra legroom, watch non-stop TV, never look at the flight-progress screen until somewhere over Vegas (homebound) or past the North Sea (mainland Eurobound) and try not to peel off my own skin and then claw my way out of the plane. Easy-peasy. (Note: On an LAX - DUB Aer Lingus flight, I once watched the same three episodes of Bob's Burgers about nine times, in between fitful naps, devouring my Sophie Kinsella novel, and partaking in nummy meals and drinkies. TV is my Xanax.)  

If I'm totally honest, when I look in the mirror, besides the faint wisp of Aunt Josephine, I also see a well-meaning yet slightly spoiled brat with little real concern: kind of an amalgam of 30Rock's Jenna Maroney, The Office's Andy Bernard and Frasier's Niles Crane ... with just the teensiest dash of Veruca Salt. Ergo, my primitive brain has mimicked a series of prehistoric-style fears to keep me on my neurological toes. No rogue mammoths or warring tribes lurking about the tundra, but there are frighteningly fast diesel-trucks on the freeway, and the slightest, though very doubtful, possibility the sheets at the Sheraton Vienna weren't bleached thoroughly. In short, life is very good and, whilst I do not take my good fortune for granted, coronavirus has lain down some serious, primal fear that trumps all my silly frets. If I can weather this, what the heck do I care about a little lizard in my closet?

Oddly now - odd because, as a stay-at-home writer, I've been at this houseparty for a long time - I feel extra pressure to make my days even more useful and fulfilling, now that everyone else is at home, making their days more useful and fulfilling. As it stands, I am currently working on two new novels, populating this media site and upping my elliptical workouts and yoga practice - nearly obsessive, daily yoga via the serene and beauteous, BohoBeautiful. Yet, I can do more ...

Superficially, like, on the literal surface, I really should do my nails. I mean, they're clean and clipped, but they haven't seen polish since I took off the turquoise I applied for January, inspired by Liza Minelli's Cabaret character, Sally Bowles. I could style my hair more; but layered, high pony tails are very Rey Skywalker, don't you think? My eyebrows, I should leave alone. I worry I pluck too much and could morph into a perpetually surprised Joan Crawford if I'm not careful. Maybe I'll let them thicken up a bit, à la Sarah Hyland. Of course, there's room for deeper betterment.

So, languages. Most writers love language and I am no exception. I adore the swath and intricacies of my mother-tongue, English, to the point of being described as a "word Nazi"; I think "pedantic" is nicer, but I get it. I am Sesquipedalian Girl and do have a Sheldon Cooper strain, like getting a weird enjoyment in pointing out misspellings on menus to wait staff. (Sometimes, I see misspellings in friends' IG posts and I want to help them so badly, but I never say a word.) Whilst my second and third languages are French and German, respectively, conversational Italian is not a forte, but I am working on it. Yet, in this period of isolation, I have gravitated to taking on a whole, new language: Dutch, due to my mad love affair with The Netherlands. It's going surprisingly well, though I give credit to the Dutch for developing a language so similar to German and English. As I write this, I am proud to claim I can speak Dutch like a very chatty three-year-old. De hond en de konijn eten een aardbei. (The dog and the rabbit eat a strawberry.) De koe en de varken drinken water. (The cow and the pig drink water.) Welterrusten, schaap. (Good night, sheep.) Ik eet geen vlees. (I do not eat meat.) De kip en het ei. (The chicken and the egg.) By week's end, I should be able to tell you exactly what I ate for breakfast and that the chicken and the pig and the horse all live on a farm and do not eat bananas.

Savannah of Williamsburg is always on my mind: my 18thC. historical-fiction series. I am writing Book V currently, with Miss Savannah Squirrel and her Virginia friends eager to meet Boston's controversial Whig, Dr. Joseph Warren, during the volatile and combustible days of the Boston Tea Party, Also on the docket, is Solving Solvang (working title): an archaeological mystery novel mis-en-scenes between Solvang, CA and Copenhagen, Denmark. As soon as travel is allowed to recommence, I'm pretty sure some further-research trips are in order. 

Behaviouralists say it takes merely twenty-one days to change, or embed, a habit. What do you want to change, or embed? Covid-19 is a life-changer, for good or for bad. For some it is a lifetime opportunity, your state-mandated re-do. Don't like the way you wake up every day? Now is the time to change it. Don't like the way you go to bed? Change it. Don't like your daily efforts and results? Change them. Now is a grand time to pursue those "Someday" passions. Wake up, kittens, it's Someday. You have time now. Do it. Cosplay, learning a new language, learning to play chess, writing a novel, starting a blog, learning how to code, studying ballet or Irish step dancing, starting yoga, picking up an instrument you set down too long ago, picking up a new instrument, learning how to fence (pairs very well with cosplay), taking up cycling, fostering a baking passion, learning magic, reading more Shakespeare, starting a YouTube channel for gaming tutorials, becoming a weightlifter ... whatever nibbles at the back of your brain, do it. There has never been a more opportune time to learn, perfect and share your passions. What do you have to lose?

Please, note when I write, Change it, it's not meant to be that simple and flippant, to be sure. I don't necessarily mean obtain a Ph.D. or go to law school tomorrow; although post-grad work is never a bad idea. Yet, maybe start with twee changes, like less TV before bed. (Well, not for me, but maybe you'd fare better with less TV.) Perchance, reading a new poet and sipping some lavender tea before bed might calm your night. Instead of watching the news first thing in the morning - very bad idea these days, says Moi - listen to some Bach or Mozart and do light stretches, or your nails ... then, start law school, maybe on Thursday. Changes and betterment start however suit you best. 

Of course, I know, and appreciate, it's not all Pollyanna out there and for a lot of folks, seizing the day is easier written than done. Sometimes, it's really difficult to manage betterment and when an attempt is skipped, or, worse yet, fails, it can feel Sisyphean to even try to catch up with yourself. Those are the days you give yourself, you forgive yourself and move on toward tomorrow, reminding yourself you get a fresh start every, single day. Go, monkey, go! 

The French call it, en chenille, or, cocooning. An arcane social-term used more in past centuries than today, but it refers to staying in, leisurely primping and planning, and resting up for a fab, flash night out with the lads and ladies. Like a patient caterpillar in his cocoon, you shall soon burst forth a vibrant, beautiful, better flutterby. This is how I choose to see this period: tout le monde en chenille. Everyone just waiting to flutterby. Preferably in time for flash, Summer togs.

In the end, what gets us through this is not just personal betterment, finding the calm and quiet in your days, staying in touch with fam and friends, as well as the continued march of 21stC. medical progress, but, perhaps most importantly of all ...TV. What will get us through this is Family Guy, IT Crowd, Big Bang Theory, Ghost Adventures, Downton Abbey, Lady Dynamite, King of Queens, 30Rock, Bob's Burgers, What We Do In The Shadows, Family Karma, The X-Files, Travel Man: 48 Hours, The Office, Real Housewives (yes), Deadliest Catch, Poirot, EastEnders, American Dad, Shetland, whatever your comfort TV be.

But what about all that personal betterment stuff? the fair reader queries? Well, obviously, better yourself with the TV on in the background. Duh. Now, when all the Hulu, Amazon, Netflix, Disney+ and BritBox servers crash, consider my sage words null and void. Every man for himself, when The Simpsons: Treehouse of Horror episodes are no longer a distraction. JK ... mostly.

Fret not, kittens. Let your Aunt Josephine fade. (I mean, be savvy, she's not totally wrong about everything.) In the end, we shall emerge better, stronger and more fearless. Seize the day, seize the upside of all this nonsense, as best you can. Prep for a better tomorrow, knowing this will end soon; we will return to "normal". If that normal, your normal, isn't what you really wish then take the time now to fix it, for tomorrow is another sunshiny day. (Although, some of us really want more rainy days.) Hugs for our Earth, virtual hugs for you, fair readers, and the grandest hug of all for you, dear television. I love you, TV.   

@JennyPopCom