When Debi stopped answering her phone or responding to text messages, her daughter drove over to the house and found her mom feverish, disoriented, with a horrible cough and unable to make much sense.
I’ve just purchased my Spring Line of Corona Couture online: Sweat pants, four T-shirts and a new pair of slippers.
Pretty soon the chances are you’re going to end up with a rabbit, or someone close to you is going to wind up with a rabbit. And that’s where we are now in the pandemic. It’s raining rabbits.
The kids feel fine, so how about playing some hoop at the park? Nope, the city has put steering-wheel and bike locks on the rims. It’s closed parks, beaches and bike paths. It’s flipped the timeless demand of parents telling their kids to go outside and get some fresh air. Now it’s “Stay in your room and play video games.”
Fox folks like Lou Dobbs and Sean Hannity continue to blame “the left-wing media” for “playing up fears of the coronavirus,” and causing panic, before they dutifully and with no discernible trace of irony report the fact that 17 states now have more than 1,000 cases, pushing the U.S. total past 104,000.
With your incessant hand-washing, you’re cleaner. Your pets are stoked that you’re around all the time. You’re not squandering your money on useless junk, at least not at the frenzied pace you once did.
Anthony hopped out of the car and handed me the cooler bag. I peered inside and it glowed like the briefcase in “Pulp Fiction.”
We happy? Yeah, we happy.
There was even some levity on Nextdoor, which is sort of like finding out the old grouch who lives in the house on the corner is actually a funny guy once you get to know him.
It takes $2 million a month to operate the aquarium.
I even find some pleasure in doing housework, and I continually find myself singing Glen Campbell’s “Dreams of the Everyday Housewife” to myself as I scour pots and pans.