A couple of nights' good sleep,
and I feel more like my old self, recovered from the
psych-test four-hour marathon.

While this clinic is the best possible place for me to be,
particularly while weathering the coronavirus pandemic,
there are plenty of fellow patients who disagree with me.

The most unhappy are those who are parents with children.
One patient, a married father whose wife is pregnant,
has said, to heck with it, and is terminating his treatment,
directing the clinic towards discharge,
and heading for home as soon as practical.

Well, naturally, we in-patients are getting on each other's nerves
under the stress and strain of the present,
especially with the future holding
all these threatening unknowns.
Some patients, predictably, increase their voluntary isolation.
When it is mealtime,
they show up at the dining room/kitchen area,
get their meal to-go,
and without further ado they carry the dishes and walk away,
to eat in the privacy of their residence rooms.

And some in-patients are sniping shrilly at the rest of us
because we get closer to each other than six feet,
we sit too close together,
we don't wash our hands with sanitizer to THEIR satisfaction,
miaow miaow MIAAAAAAAAAAOW.