Had a socially-distanced happy hour with the people on my block last night. Wife sent an email. Everyone came out. There are 8 houses on my little dead-end, one-way street. We repaved the whole thing last year at a cost of $50k, split evenly amongst the houses. We wanted to get together and celebrate, but a neighbor's son-in-law killed himself, and we all hibernated through the winter. Then COVID.

It was nice to sit around chatting, drinking slightly too much, talking about yard maintenance, and cats and dogs and kids all wandering around being peaceful with each other.

It's a goddamn fucking blissful little suburban sanctuary and a I love it.

We have two gay couples (one female, one male) a single mom-and-teenage-daughter, my wife and I with no kids and our roommate, and two older couples who are grandparents and have their kids and grandkids over all the time. There's one other single woman who is a bit of a loner, and one rental house owned by a complete and utter asshole, who has been renovating it and clearly is getting ready to sell. There are two black people on the street, one South African woman, two Veterans, and two single Moms. A couple more conservative types (the grandfathers, who both used to be in construction) and raving liberals. And Zero cases of COVID.

We really have a nice little microcosm of Seattle culture here.

I am so very, unimaginably, lucky. And I know it. And I appreciate it every day.

It keeps me sane. (And staying away from Social Media, too.)