My state, like most of the world, is on the verge of producing a bad sequel, Lockdown, Part Two: Just When You Thought It Was Safe to Go Into a Restaurant. For many, the last lockdown seemed to last forever and got terrible reviews at Rotten Tomatoes.
But (mixing metaphors) Dad (our governor) says we’ve been bad! We’ve been caught behaving indecently—letting our masks down in public and exposing ourselves to others! (COVID-19 infections are spiraling out of control). So Dad has given us one week to “shape up, mister and/or missy!” And if we don’t, he says he’ll put us all on restriction (again) and send us to our rooms without supper (close bars and restaurants) before we do something we’ll regret—like catch a social disease! “And no more of that risqué behavior in public (being closer than six feet apart), or it’ll be no parties for you–ever!”
Oddly enough, Dad isn’t cutting our screen time. In fact, he’s pretty much sentencing us to it. I mean, what else is there to do when you can’t hang out at your friend’s house and play beer pong with your mask down?
Thing is, when you’re alone a lot, like a-lot-a-lot, you get kinda squirrely. Here’s a note I wrote to myself last spring:
Dear Self: Are you reading this? No! You never do! Why do I even bother? You’re so self-absorbed! You don’t even care about me! I don’t want to hang out with you anymore! – One week later – Note to Self: Stop writing notes to Self! He just doesn’t get you!
See what I mean? Ah, well, we do what we have to to cope, right? For example…
Write silly blog posts like this one.
All joking aside, I fully support our governor’s actions. COVID-19 is no laughing matter, and joking about it is simply my coping mechanism. But better that than writing crazy notes to self. Right? Hello? Are you even listening to me?