It’s officially here. The Coronavirus has invaded our home like a bad house guest. It took up residence in my wife’s respiratory system and now she’s sequestered in our guest bedroom.
I, on the other hand, am dodging it like a deadbeat trying to evade a process server. Sometimes I put on disguises to confuse the virus. My wife swears that when she’s better, she will have me institutionalized.
But the joke’s on her because it’s day 5 and I’m virus free. So, my trenchcoat and Barney Fife mask is working. Well, except for when I forgot to take it off to go to the mailbox. My apologies to the Blue Creek Woods Morning Walker Moms Club.
My neighbors (the ones who didn’t see me in disguise) feel quite sorry for her and keep bringing us food —cookies, muffins, chicken salad, and rice pudding. I let my wife have ALL the rice pudding.
Personally, I don’t think rice and pudding should have ever gotten together in the first place. It’s as bad a combination as Kim Kardashian and… , well come to think of it, her and anybody she’s married over the years.
But my wife loves it, so she was quite grateful for our neighbor’s act of kindness. My wife also used to watch the Kardashians. Hmm… is there a correlation here?
While my wife is quarantined with our new house guest, I’ve been trying to keep things running smoothly. I think I’m doing a good job, but my dog isn’t in agreement. He left a protest pile (if you know what I mean) outside our bedroom door. Apparently, my house management skills are not up to his standards.
To entertain herself, my wife is reading lots of books. In the meantime, I’m trying to write books. It’s a good system.
Now, I need to go check on the dog and my wife. Time to put on my Barney mask. So if the ‘Rona comes to your house, remember my advice: wear a disguise and let the sick person eat the rice pudding.
Carry on, Citizens!
