Quarantine madness

Day 27 of COVID19 Quarantine. The madness has begun.
Sure, initially I felt like I had won the lottery. I was working from home – my dream job. But now I’m not so sure.
I found out that there’s a woman who lives in my house; she says she’s my wife and she thinks she’s the boss of everything.
I believe that she is a teacher of some kind because she keeps trying to make me do homework.
I also believe that she has a thing going with the Amazon driver because he shows up every day…day in and day out and she is always giddy when he shows up. He brings her things; gifts I think.
She claims they are necessary items, crucial to our health and wellbeing. But come on, who the heck orders toilet paper from Amazon. I assume she thinks I’m an idiot.
There are other signs of madness. I have a ball that I call Wilson. He is telling me to do things, things I am not proud of.
I ate a double-chocolate-covered brownie with ice cream and chocolate syrup while I watched a rerun of Gunsmoke. Who does that?
I woke up a few hours later from a sugar coma, disorientated on the front grass in my pajamas.
First off, I don’t wear pajamas. I am one of those free spirits. But recently, I took to wearing pajamas because my co-workers wouldn’t let me call in on ZOOM with nothing but a smile on. I suppose there are things you just can’t un-see.
There are so many telltale signs of madness creeping in. Of course I don’t dye my roots, and I quit shaving the first week. I look like the Unabomber, complete with a wildeyed look and disorientation.
I am grasping at straws trying to hold on to my sanity, so I shaved my beard to look like Iron Man, Tony Stark.
I am also listening to Sounds of Silence in the dark really loud and backwards to see if there really are satanic messages embedded into the music that could perhaps explain all the crazy we are living in.
My personal hygiene is gone. Oh sure, I boil myself in my hot tub full of chlorine each day trying to ensure I don’t get the COVID19. I don’t know if it is working, but I have a rash in a place I would rather not say and I am whiter than Michael Jackson. All the towels are now ruined too.
I leave dirty clothes on the floor all the time. It wasn’t intentional at first; it’s because I’m a slob and I’m lazy.
But now, I’ve been experimenting… Why does the woman who’s staying in my house run around working all the time?
At first, I thought we had a magic table in our house. I would leave plates of uneaten food and Cheetos (technically not a food) and later when I walked into the living room, the plates were gone and there were nice clean folded clothes on the coffee table.
I also suspect the woman who lives with me brings the food and mail to my house. I thought the Post Office started delivering our mail to our houses, but apparently they are broke and going out of business, and besides, the only one that ever shows up at our house is that freakin’ Amazon guy with the mullet.
Occasionally I go for a drive just to see other humans. I lather in sanitizer and usually spray insecticide on me too. The fake news calls this COVID19 thing a super bug, so I want to be sure.
Every person I see looks like a possible disease vector – a rat with bubonic plague scurrying around the corner with their rolls of toilet paper.
When I go for a drive now, for some reason I drive slow. How slow, you might ask? The other day Pard and Sandy actually passed me.
As I drive by the corner, a man standing on the corner in a trench coat opened up his jacket. I thought he was flashing me, but he was offering sanitizer, toilet paper, and brownies from Colorado.
I am tired of being suspicious of everybody, wondering if they are all the grim reaper here to bring about my earthly demise.
How mad, how desperate have I become? I crave human interaction. I can’t believe that I said that, but it’s true.
The woman who lives in my house is extremely strict about the proper social distancing thing and insists the Governor meant at night too.
I am so desperate for human touch that the other day I faked a hurt back so I could go see Bubba at the Chiropractor Office. I knew that he would adjust my back; he always does.
One time I went in for a kidney stone and he adjusted my back. Now I don’t have kidneys or stones – at least that is what he said. I just wanted to be touched by another human being, even if I had to pay for it.
Sure enough, Bubba came in. At least I think it was him. He was wearing rubber calving gloves and a mask, and I was too. He gently laid me down on a table and with what seemed like caring eyes gave me a big bear hug that made my back crack like the snap, crackle, and pop of a bowl of Rice Crispies.
I know it was a desperate pathetic action, but Wilson assured me that no one would know, that people wouldn’t judge me, that they would understand this COVID19 has got us doing all kind of crazy things. I mean, Steve Duke grew his hair out. I saw it on Facebook; it must be true!
Sure, it wasn’t very satisfying, and with the masks and rubber gloves a little contrived – perhaps too clinical.
I felt dirty after the entire encounter, so I went home and got in my hot tub full of chlorine and boiled away any germs and the smell of Axe Deodorant Bubba was wearing.
It took about thirty minutes to drive home and again, conveniently, the Amazon guy was just pulling out of the driveway when I arrived safely back home.

San Juan Record

49 South Main St
PO Box 879
Monticello, UT 84535

Phone: 435.587.2277
Fax: 435.587.3377
Open 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Friday

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