Note: In an effort to make myself write more often during this quarantine, I am writing a story that involves this whole crazy situation. It will hopefully be published regularly and will hopefully be somewhat interesting.
The quarantine had been hard on all of us, most of all my stomach.
The whole world had practically shut down due to the coronavirus, and everyone was reacting to the new reality. And just when I got used to that reality, that’s when I suddenly found myself battling for my life, my planet, and my beliefs about the Oxford Comma.
Before we get into all of that, though, I need to back up, give you a few details and set the stage for our story.
And when I say back up, I mean it! Please stay six feet away from me. And cover your keyboard if you cough!
Is it easier if I use type like this?
No? All right, then. When the country moved into quarantine mode, I was living at home with my wife and cat. My 23-year-old son, Ben, and his cat had recently moved in, too. The other children and their cats were all living in different houses in the same in town, as well.
They might ague, of course, that they were living better than us, not just as well. I’d also like to point out that while they were living well in their well made homes, their homes were made without wells.
We were all busy during our normal days, except the cats, of course, who mostly slept around the various houses on most afternoons. I don’t mean that in a derogatory way by saying they were sleeping around or anything like that. I have no idea about the morals of cats and I’m not here to judge them. I just think they are lazy.
Ok, I should back up on that point and clarify that, too. Cats are selfish. I actually am here to judge them. They constantly want to be fed, they crave attention and they spend most of their time fixing their hair. I realize I could use that same description for myself, but at least I go to work every day!
Or at least I used to go to work every day. Now, I stay home due to the quarantine. I am still working on my day job from home, and I work on my blog in the evenings. I definitely do not work on it during the hours I am supposed to be working my day job!
For those of you who have followed the blog regularly over the last few years, I am a 50-year-old man living in Ohio. My blog covers important topics such as Billy Ocean, grocery store etiquette and Every Kiss Begins with K.
Anyway, when the quarantine first hit, it was hard to adjust to how to work from home, how to communicate effectively with coworkers and how to now a snack every 47 minutes. Already today I have had two pieces of cinnamon raisin toast, two bowls of dry cereal, two sandwiches, a bowl of Crunch and Munch (I prefer the Munch), a Nutty Bar and a bowl of chips and cheese dip.
Earlier this week, we ate doughnuts for dinner. It was glorious!
I actually am enjoying the stress eating part of the quarantine and all of the craziness, but I am worried I will not be happy the next time I step on the scale.
Over the last few days, I have begun to get used to starting my work day on my home computer, checking in with co-workers through various platforms and trying to move projects forward in this environment. Like anything, it gets easier with time and you become accustomed to the new reality.
What I was not expecting, though, was what happened when I was in the kitchen on Day 5 of the quarantine. I was looking for honey to pour over my ball of chocolate chip cookie dough when suddenly there was a loud noise at the back door.
“Are you cats chasing each other around again,” I said in my deep voice to sound impressive to the cats. But when I looked around, both cats were just begging for food like normal.
“What was that noise then,” I said to the cats.
“Meow,” one cat said while the other looked at my like I was an idiot.
“Exactly,” I said to the cats and I went to the back door to take a look. As I reached for the doorknob, I put the rest of the cookie dough into my mouth and said “Mish humone out here?’
But when I opened the door, that’s when my world changed again.
“Help me, please,” said an injured person in a superhero costume who was lying next to my back door. “The fate of the world depends on it.”
“All right, I guess I can help you then,” I said, wondering how I could best help him from six feet away. “If you grab ahold of this broom can you get up?”
He shook his head yes, grabbed onto the broom and pulled himself to his feet.
“You look pretty badly injured. You’d better come inside and we’ll see how we can help you. My wife is a nurse and I’m a blogger, so you know you’re in good hands. And speaking of hands, try to not to touch anything or bleed on anything, especially the bathroom, we just had it redone.”
I opened the door and helped him inside.
“Who are you?” I said.
“I’m Larry,” Larry said.
“I thought you might have a superhero name like Captain Ohio or Mr. Magnificent. I wasn’t expecting Larry,” I said.
“Well, kid,” he said although I was clearly older than he is, “life doesn’t always give you what you are expecting. Now give me a spoonful of that cookie dough, and I’ll explain to you what we need to do to save the world.”
End of Chapter One
What do you think so far? Thanks for any comments you have. Please make them from six feet or more away.