Notes From Quarantine
DAY 3
Sunday, Nov. 8
We continue to survive in our multi-level bunker. I remain without symptoms, and so, I believe that my negative test holds true. The masked woman who is living upstairs continues to show only mild symptoms, although today she lost her sense of smell. I am sympathetic to her affliction, although the one positive to this is I no longer need to shower as frequently, and often the passing of gas can go on unnoticed. Did some work from home today, and noticed this afternoon that a local civic organization had placed a flag in my yard, as I had requested. Shed a tear of pride as I watched it unfurl and flap in the breeze during sunset, with thoughts of veterans I know who served. Some lived, some died, all did their duty. A temporary quarantine to help protect my community? That ain’t shit, compared to what some of them went through. And I’m out.
Today’s observations:
When I get a jar of full, unsliced dill pickles and take one and slice it up with a knife to put the slices on a hamburger, I feel like I’m some kind of goddamn magnificent frontiersman, living off the land. You want some ketchup there, Jim Bridger?
Many people have told me to “f*ck my feelings” (please excuse the vulgarity) over the last four years, and I’m now noticing that a lot of them sure do get their little tiny feelings hurt rather easily.
There aren’t any bats in my house. I’m pretty sure of it.
Many people who demand that we support our troops don’t really support our troops when one of them is someone you know, but only when it’s their abstract idea of “our troops.”
I believe the Minnesota Vikings NFL football franchise was specifically designed to perpetually confuse the hell out of me.
Many people who think it’s funny when their guy cheats and gets away with it sure are quick to accuse others of cheating without any evidence to back it up. And they really don’t think it’s funny anymore, but I do.
I sometimes like to put Thousand Island Dressing on sandwiches, and not just Ruebens. And when I do, I feel kinky.
Today’s quarantine playlist: Van Halen, Cyndi Lauper, Iron Maiden, Elvis, Bruce Springsteen and George Harrison (Here Comes The Sun.)
Overall status: Balls. Just balls.
DAY 3
Sunday, Nov. 8
We continue to survive in our multi-level bunker. I remain without symptoms, and so, I believe that my negative test holds true. The masked woman who is living upstairs continues to show only mild symptoms, although today she lost her sense of smell. I am sympathetic to her affliction, although the one positive to this is I no longer need to shower as frequently, and often the passing of gas can go on unnoticed. Did some work from home today, and noticed this afternoon that a local civic organization had placed a flag in my yard, as I had requested. Shed a tear of pride as I watched it unfurl and flap in the breeze during sunset, with thoughts of veterans I know who served. Some lived, some died, all did their duty. A temporary quarantine to help protect my community? That ain’t shit, compared to what some of them went through. And I’m out.
Today’s observations:
When I get a jar of full, unsliced dill pickles and take one and slice it up with a knife to put the slices on a hamburger, I feel like I’m some kind of goddamn magnificent frontiersman, living off the land. You want some ketchup there, Jim Bridger?
Many people have told me to “f*ck my feelings” (please excuse the vulgarity) over the last four years, and I’m now noticing that a lot of them sure do get their little tiny feelings hurt rather easily.
There aren’t any bats in my house. I’m pretty sure of it.
Many people who demand that we support our troops don’t really support our troops when one of them is someone you know, but only when it’s their abstract idea of “our troops.”
I believe the Minnesota Vikings NFL football franchise was specifically designed to perpetually confuse the hell out of me.
Many people who think it’s funny when their guy cheats and gets away with it sure are quick to accuse others of cheating without any evidence to back it up. And they really don’t think it’s funny anymore, but I do.
I sometimes like to put Thousand Island Dressing on sandwiches, and not just Ruebens. And when I do, I feel kinky.
Today’s quarantine playlist: Van Halen, Cyndi Lauper, Iron Maiden, Elvis, Bruce Springsteen and George Harrison (Here Comes The Sun.)
Overall status: Balls. Just balls.
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