A surprise Coronavirus upgrade
The proof is in the crazy pudding
My oh my how COVID-19 has wreaked havoc on our world. It’s been a frustrating time, a crazy time, a stressful time, and a sad time. In all sincerity, it’s been of Biblical proportions. Whoever calls it a plague would be right to do so. As of this writing, the coronavirus has wiped out 178,845 members of our planet…but by the time this is published, that number will be obsolete by miles. All of these people had family who loved them, and family that they loved. The only thing worse that could possibly happen now would be a Michael Bolton benefit concert with Carrot Top as the opener. But the nice thing is that I get 3 weeks to the gallon, presently, so that’s good.
It’s been hard to watch the numbers climb ever higher daily, and to see protesters brandishing signs that cry out for restoration of freedoms that were never fully taken away anyway. Each new day brings with it a fresh steaming plate of Crazy: like Dennis Rodman served on a bed of hot noodles:
- Navy captains being sacked
- Plunging stocks
- The maddening back-and-forth of political wrangling
- And of course, people are STILL playing Baby Shark and other music that makes me want to eat Tide Pods
- And now, to top it off, President Stable Genius has recently – and I am not making this up – “instructed the United States Navy to shoot down and destroy any and all Iranian gunboats if they harass our ships at sea,” which is a bit of a conundrum to me because I was not aware that Iranian gunboats could fly. Don’t get me wrong though - I’m totally ok with all-out thermonuclear war in the midst of a global pandemic (who isn’t, right?) – but only as long as the American boats can fly too. Otherwise it’s just not fair. But first things first: I’ll visit The Aquatic Aviation Craft Blowout Sale down the road and secure my ride.
Yet in the midst of it all, there’s hope, and I’m not talking about the kind that floats, the kind that ushers in the promise of a new Jedi, or even the kind that accompanies glory. I’m talking real, genuine hope, like the kind of unassailable promise-filled hope that you get when you finally learn how to pronounce Lupita Nyongo.
Hope Always Prevails
The coronavirus has brought our family closer together:
- We’re preparing and eating more meals together (instead of flinging food across the room from a spatula and seeing what sticks to our kids faces)
- We’re taking more walks together (which sadly interrupts my laying-around-time, but hey: it’s give and take)
- We’re taking more van rides together
- We’re praying more
- We’re hugging more
- We’re being more practical with our expenses
- We’re shopping for better deals on toilet paper
- We’re planning our move to Canada where they get $2000 a month instead of one single coronavirus stimulus payout
- We’re building our very own rocket with a course heading set for Neptune to start our own Alexander colony, complete with our kids, our dog, magic beans, plenty of toilet paper, and the remote. On that note, you’re welcome to come with us unless you live in one of the following states:
I know it’s crazy, and I’m not prepared to bless the coronavirus, or even to say thank you…not yet. But the conditions surrounding home quarantine have actually helped us to draw closer together, and that’s what I call a DUP: a Delightfully Unforeseen Paradox. It’s given us hope. And hope always prevails. Aside from coming down with a bad case of strep throat for two days two weeks ago (it’s over now: the doctor told me to up my Amoxicillin; I replied, “I did up my Amoxicillin; now up yours”), it’s all been a bit more cozy around here, if you don’t count the constant stress of wanting to murder your screaming children using only a nail file and some Drano.
Seize the Day. That’s really what it’s all about. “Make your lives extraordinary,” as Keating urged in Dead Poets Society. O Captain, my Captain, thank you for that, because that’s what we’ve needed to do while we sit on the toilet and desperately await that much-needed toilet paper delivery. Surrounding all of that, however, we’ve really tried to come closer together, and to make each moment count by loving each other more, tolerating each other more, counting our blessings, and of course, putting the seat down and flushing.
I suppose that having a preschooler in the midst of a pandemic helps. And having an infant doesn’t hurt things either. They sure make life interesting and bring laughter and joy to our hearts. The infant with his incessant drool and flailing arms, and the 4-year-old with his incessant, crazymaking humming of the Superman theme, along with phrases that pretty much all begin with “Watch me __________.” Though we are a bit more fearful and protective during this time, they provide endless entertainment and joy in the midst of sorrow. Kind of like when you just don’t know what to eat, you sigh, and then you open the pantry and there lies that glorious unopened box of Oreos, and all the sorrow of all time magically evaporates forever.
It’s the same joy that you’ll experience when you climb aboard our new rocket ship bound for Neptune. Just make sure you leave your Michael Bolton and Carrot Top CD’s back on earth or I’ll pull out the nail file and Drano, in accordance with Neptune New Resident Statute 192.A993.2B.ORNOT2B.96A. See you there! Watch out for the flying gunboats on your way in.
Seriously though – may you find and cherish a certain hope, as well as a beautiful DUP, during these uncertain times.
HEY. WAIT JUST A S.E.C.!
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