It is perhaps the most miserable day yet. They’ve all been vaguely miserable, but this one, coming when it’s started to seem pointless to even tally the days of quarantine anymore, seems particularly bleak. The wind is so loud you can hear it indoors. The rain is coming in pathetic smatterings, as if even it couldn’t be bothered to try all that hard, and grayness blankets everything, like someone’s isolation depression was asked to draw a rendering of its general mood.