Coronavirus Self-Quarantine Diary

I was in a café on Tuesday evening and I watched a solid hour of TV news. I played the game where you take a shot every time someone says the magic word (we all know what that word is this week). I blacked out after five minutes and woke up in the fetal position in my bathtub filled with bleach.

Am I overreacting? 

The lesson here is either to buy more bleach or stop watching TV news. 

Martial law has been declared. By government decree, everyone is ordered to stay home or face judicial consequences which may include public spankings. We were given 24 hours to buy supplies and head inside until further notice. The first thing to disappear from supermarket shelves was quality gin. This is a cruel disease. 

Day 1 
In a panic-eating attack, I went through all of the fun food in my supply, things like anything in a bag that has been fried, all ham and bacon products, ice cream, and bacon sprinkles for ice cream. If I’m reduced to eating nothing but fresh fruit and vegetables, the virus has already won. 

Day 2

Netflix content has already been exhausted. Once again, if I’m forced to watch anything about superheroes or vampires or zombies or angst-ridden, suicidal teens, I’m better off dead.

At some point in this crisis, I’ll legitimately need to buy toilet paper. Man, I’m going to feel like such a fearmonger. I dread the glare from the person at the cash register with a thought bubble almost visible over their head asking, “Panic much, grandpa? Maybe you should pick up some smelling salts just in case you swoon? You can find them next to the adult diapers which may also come in handy since you’re obviously pooping yourself.”

 

Day 3

Bored half-to-death, I decide to go commando and drop downstairs to have a look around at the empty streets of this panic-stricken Spanish city. It’s a lot worse than I ever could have imagined. There isn’t a single seat available on the terrace of my corner café and I’m forced to sit inside on this beautiful, sunny day—and they have run out of quality gin. When will this nightmare end? 

There's a rumor going around that all government employees will be paid in rolls of toilet paper, the only viable currency at this time. It’s not true, of course, but I still think that it’s the best rumor that I’ve ever started.
 

    Day 4

I’m done with this farce. I just want to get the disease and get it over with. I’ve decided to just go outside and French kiss the first person I meet who is coughing. Then I remember we’re in the #metoo era, so I need to make sure the contagion is consensual.

On my first venture in the street, I have no takers. On the bright side, I have learned that pepper spray is even more effective than hand sanitizer for eliminating germs.

Desperate for any sort of human contact, I went on a singles chat site. A woman said she would "social distance my brains out." I don't know if this is good or bad. These are confusing times.