It’s Day 32 in Isolationland, and these, now, are the doldrums I warned myself about when I embarked on this pandemic journal.

As doldrums go, these aren’t the worst I’ve ever seen, and it would be great if I wasn’t saddled with these chronicles. I wonder if my bosses would consider paying me to sit around all day watching “Shark Tank” and playing escape-room puzzles on my various gizmos.

As far as I can tell, my dogs dig the lockdown, though I imagine that’s something all pet owners tell themselves: How happy their pets are when their beloved master is home and how despondent and heartbroken they are when the human leaves the house even if it’s just to take the trash out.

I’m guessing Annie and Jasper are at least somewhat happier when I’m in the house, because then there’s at least a sliver of a chance that I might drag out a picnic ham and leave it on the living room floor, whereas when I’m gone, all hopes are dashed.

Every morning when I wake up, I Google the word “coronavirus,” to see if anything earth-shaking has happened since the last time I Googled the word “coronavirus.” Maybe that miracle thing we’ve been told about.

Nope, not today. This morning there was, however,  a lot of chatter and hinting around that there might be some experimentation soon on loosening the lockdown. A lot of it is coming from the White House, where Trump is itching to get everybody back to work and boost the Dow so he can unfurl the “Mission Accomplished” banner that he found in the closet in the Lincoln Bedroom.

And I’m sure getting the country rolling again is somewhat of a popular itch these days, though more serious and knowledgeable people than your president (yes, there are a few) urge a longer-lasting lockdown to prevent a rebound effect, in which case I might soon be writing “Son of Quarantine Chronicles—Sweet Lord, Now It’s Even Worse: Day 1.”

There are some who complain about some aspects of the stay-at-home rule. Like, if I can go to the grocery store, why can’t I go to the cigar store?

Well, of course, a lot of it has to do with the word “essential,” but if you’re serious about cigars, many liquor stores sell them. I don’t know why I picked cigar stores as an example.

But there are recreational complaints. Why can’t I play tennis or golf or do other things that don’t involve getting within 6 feet of someone else?

A couple of reasons. One is no one has the time to go down the entire list of human activities and decide what’s OK and what’s potentially not OK. Is it fair that some places have to close when others are deemed essential and may remain open? How many people in your life as you were growing up told you that life is invariably fair? Why do I have to stay in lockdown because I’m 65, when I can go toe-to-toe fitness-wise with any number of wise-crackin’ 64-year-olds who are free to prance about in the meadow?

Two, because if we open up tennis courts, everyone’s going to flock to the tennis courts and before you know it, the place will be overrun by 64-year-old pickleball players, then comes the rebound effect.

We’ll allow our faithful correspondent Tom Brayton make his case:

“The other day we were driving from lunch and took a detour through Rec Park. I thought maybe I would hop the fence at one of the golf courses and hit my 7-iron for a couple quick holes, but much to our amazement, the courses, both the 18-hole and 9-hole courses, are surrounded by ‘Private Property, No Trespassing’ signs, complete with the Penal Code any offender would be violating. What? Really? Is it any skin off Mayor Garcia’s or our city council members’ collective nose if a golfer or two take advantage of the closed but quite functional golf course? I don’t get it. I don’t. What kind of Scrooge came up with this idea?

“In fact, I think it is time to reopen the courses under certain easily accomplished protective measures. All golfers must wear masks. One golfer per cart. No one under 18 unless with parent.

“Golfers, by their very nature, do not get close to one another. The game is not conducive to close-knit gatherings on the course. We avoid each other, in fact, so as not to obviously interfere with a competitor’s concentration. Or lack of same. Just as there is no crying in baseball, there is no hugging on the golf course. At least when and where I play.”

A lot of what Brayton says makes sense. And yet: Denied!

Golf courses and tennis courts, and beaches and parks may be among the first places to open when it’s decided to ease the lockdown a bit. But, until then, play golf on your phone and watch replays of tournaments on ESPN.

Maybe I’d be more militant if I hadn’t been shrewd enough to give up the game several years ago. But between maddeningly misplayed shots and overplaying the 19th Hole, it was ruining my health.