I wish I knew what to tell you. I would love to know what to say.
It would actually be my outright pleasure to give sound advice about how to deal with all of this quarantine downtime because of the coronavirus. I am as bored to death as most of you are. This “new normal” is getting to be very old fast.
The social distancing and isolation are necessary; I get that. This virus is less of a joke than Eric B. & Rakim — classic rap group reference, FYI — and we need to stay in front of this thing. At this point, it’s impossible to know if we are all overreacting or underreacting to the virus, but I would take the pangs of the former versus the consequences of the latter any time.
However, we can only wipe down doorknobs, sanitize the bathroom, mow the grass, weed eat, clean out the pantry, stock the pantry, clean out the basement, organize the basement, reorganize the basement (because your wife didn’t like the way you organized the basement the first time even though you were so proud of yourself) and knock out your Netflix queue so many times before you go stir crazy.
Speaking of the basement cleaning, were any of you astonished at what you had down there? Are we all secret packrats or something?
In our house, for some reason, we had held on to a cache of luggage so ugly it wouldn’t be worth the ridicule of picking it up at baggage claim. There were enough books to build an annex building for a small-town library. There were even textbooks from classes we took more than 25 years ago.
They weren’t useful textbooks, either; these scholastic classics had chapters like, “Leeches: Why They Are So Effective in Treating STDs” and ‘Dreaming Big: How the United States Will Eventually Get to the Moon.”
The scariest discovery was seemingly innocuous though. While rummaging through a gaggle of sun-scarred faux leather purses, I stumbled upon an assortment of various colored candles. It wasn’t just “an assortment” of candles so much as the standard assortment of candles by which all other candle assortments are judged. Madame Tussaud herself would be envious of our wax collection.
In fact, there were enough candles in my basement to officially conduct a ritualistic offering to a lesser deity — not a higher deity, mind you; I am not that egotistical. It would be someone like the Roman God of Ferns or the Greek God of Mailboxes.
Why do we have all of these candles? Was my wife Wiccan and I didn’t know it? I thought we were both Methodists.
Anyway, by my count, we had enough wax cylinders to sacrifice a creature that would be, say, 6 1/2 feet in length and about 240 to 245 pou … Wait a minute … Those are my measurements! Is this why she wanted me to wear that toga?
Needless to say, I chunked most of those candles in our rolling green dumpster. In these apocalyptic times, I might end up being a sacrifice eventually, but it wasn’t going to be this weekend.
So be careful while doing your ‘quaran-spring cleaning.’ You never know what you may find lurking in your basement.