Here we are at another weekend. I generally remain prone on Saturdays in quarantine, except for when I do my exercise. I like to just read or fall asleep or generally let my mind wander on Saturdays.

Although, I'll admit the mind wandering hasn't really been all that pleasant of late. People keep getting and dying of COVID-19. Other people flout stay-at-home guidelines that would prevent thousands of deaths. All of us (me too) feel that lockdown is unsustainable in many ways. Ahmaud Arbery was murdered in Georgia. He was out for a run, something each person in my white family does multiple times per week with no fear of violence.

Thinking about the situation we're in right now is overwhelming and sad. And where is Joe Biden? In his basement doing a bad job of using technology while prominent democrats attempt to goad him into the public consciousness?

Come on, people.

I've been quelling my panic by reminding myself that literally, every smart person is working on coronavirus right now. Like, all of the best epidemiologists and public health experts and economists and educators--they're all trying to fix things. But, I fear their fixes will be buried and dismantled by incompetent politicians. Someone please tell me I'm wrong.

Here's a picture of me practicing for tonight's show. My lip might be curling in an unattractive way. Photo Credit: Ann Marie Photography The lip curl is obviously not her fault.

In a few hours, I'll be reading a story called "Labor and Reunion" in a show called Listen to Your Mother. I wrote the story myself. It's a true one about being an adopted person and having two mothers. It's also about giving birth and being a mother myself.

That sounds like a lot, but my part only runs 4 minutes and 45 seconds, so there's no need to panic about length. And, I included a few marginally funny jokes. If you go to the show, please laugh in the appropriate places. You'll be able to tell, I think, that I tried for humor.

Of course, I'm nervous. Here are some particular fears:

• That I'll trip on the way to the stage, need to catch myself, and shove my butt toward the audience in an awkward way.
• That I'll choke on my spit.
• That my bra strap will fall down.
• That I'll lose my spot on the page and need to tell the large audience to "hold please."
• That the audience will be weirdly silent without any laughter or reaction at all. This has happened to me before at a Back-to-School Night, and it's unpleasant.