Congratulations to Geof Huth, now a grandfather. His grandson was born in California last week, and since then he’s posted a lot of pictures of the lad on Facebook. Later, with any luck, he can tell the kid, “Yeah, there was a lot of fuss going on when you were born, and not just about you.”

Seems like every organization I’ve ever given my email address to — even some I don’t remember sharing it with — has sent me a coronavirus message. Except for the township library. I wish I’d gotten a message from that entity a few days ago, alerting me that it was closing soon for the public good.

Instead, when we arrived yesterday, a sign on the door said that it had closed starting the day before. We’d had the idea to stock up on some DVDs to watch during the duration. Borrow books, not so much. Got plenty enough of those.

Even in these vexed times, there are errands to do. One took me to a local pharmacy for needful medicine, which I had no trouble with, but where I saw a much-reported WTF phenomenon with my own eyes.

The Venezuelanization of the consumer paper shelves.