Day 34,546 of the selfquarantine. I haven't lost all my marbles yet but I'm perilously close to it. There's nothing to watch on television but news anchors and talking heads of people I've never heard of shouting "Coronavirus! Coronavirus! Coronavirus!" If I have to hear coronavirus one more time I think my head will explode. This is all they talk about Ṅews Anchor George:
Ṅews Anchor George: "Coronavirus! Coronavirus! Coronavirus! I'll send it over to you, Skip."
Skip: "Coronavirus! Coronavirus! Coronavirus! Back to you, George."
News Anchor George: "Thanks, Skip. Coronavirus! Coronavirus! Coronavirus!"
Sometimes this goes on 24 hours a day, or 30 if they're interested in keeping their jobs.
BOOM!
If you hear an explosion near an army base it's probably my head exploding.
"What are you complaining about?" I hear y'all asking. After all, you are the Queen of the Couch Potatoes, you say. Yes, I am. I'm also BORED out of my gourd. We don't have any little ones in the house to keep us entertained so we have to make our own entertainment and, boy, are we dull. It's so monotonous
It's so monotonous around here, I've been eyeballing David's hair again and wondering what my chances are of talking him into another haircut. They're probably about as good as my chance of winning the lottery without buying any tickets but since I'm so dang bored I think it'd be worth the risk. David might not think so which is why I'm not going to ask him. He still doesn't know about the bald spot behind his ear and I'll never tell. Anyway, I'll just waylay him in the dining room and start whacking away. Har! Har! Har!
I think one of the hardest parts of this dang quarantine stuff is the fact that our illustrious city leaders seem to have all the discipline of the Three Stooges concerning making decisions designed to keep the citizenry of our fair city safe.
A few days ago, it was decreed that we, the citizens of Lawton, Ok, will be required to wear a mask 24/7 – even in our cars. Two days later, it was rescinded. Fishing, hunting, and boating were declared illegal until this whole thing blows over. The next day, we're told fishing and hunting is okay but don't you dare get caught in a boat. And don't get me started on the fact that they also banned golf. Golf! for cripes sake. You can't get more socially distant in any other sport. You spend all your time in the rough hunting balls by yourself or zooming around in a golf cart. The only time you might be near another player is on the green and a six-foot distance would be easy to maintain. The way I play it is. I'm lucky to get within six feet of the pin.
But I digress.
David and I ventured out to the lesser of the big box stores where no line and no guard was keeping us from shopping as a couple in order to restock a few dwindling supplies. I figured we better hurry before the council decides to ban those stores as well. As it stands, we can't buy clothing, shoes, purses, makeup – all the necessities of the average woman. You can tell the council is made up of mostly men. Anyway, we donned our masks, I slipped on a pair of gloves and off we went.
There was an employee whose job, I'm guessing, is keeping all the carts sanitized. I'm sure she woke up that morning, excited to start a new day, but got stuck cleaning carts instead. I must say, the place smelled clean and bright.
It was like going on an adventure since I hadn't left the house for anything but doctor appointments for almost a week. Everyone was smiling and happy. At least, I think they were. It was hard to tell with everyone wearing masks now. Something that, only a few weeks ago was deemed forbidden in retail establishments and banks, is now a fashion statement. Who'd a thunk it?
Speaking of which, I've noticed a rapid rise in gun sales. This is a conundrum to me. Are gun enthusiasts that bored? Don't get me wrong. I have guns too. I'm just puzzled by the uptick.
All I'm saying is, if I don't get out of this house, except for necessities the council allows us to purchase, I'm going to go crazy. A girl can only take so much of this couch potato lifestyle for extended periods. Pretty soon you might see me standing at my front door, face pressed against the glass, calculating how fast I'd need to run to beat our 50-lb. Cocker Spaniel to the mailbox. That's how bored I am.
Let Me Outta Here!