Rona Stress

I know that we all have experienced varying levels of stress and even mania during this seemingly never ending quarantine. Who didn't see the live videos in the beginning of folks fighting over toilet paper and cleaning wipes? At that point, I was waking up in the middle of the night and disinfecting the door knobs and toilet seats. Now, with threats of a third wave of crazy infection numbers on the rise (How did I miss the second wave?), I find that my Rona stress has increased to new heights of nutty. 

A friend of mine got Rona earlier this summer. His roommate gave it to him and the other three boys that live in their apartment. He didn't get outrageously ill. He didn't end up having to go to the hospital or anything like that. But he has lost his ability to taste and smell. I hear that this is a common symptom. But his roommates have gotten there senses back and he has not. It has been over a month. 

After hearing this, I found myself licking seasonings off of my hands to make sure that I could taste them. This was followed by a banana, blueberries, a teaspoon of BBQ sauce, and a protein shake. Once I was sure that my sense of taste was in order, I found myself nose first in the dryer sheets, trying to make sure that I smelled those. Then I sprayed Lysol and perfume to smell them until I almost made myself puke! 

This is life in RonaWorld. You either have spazz outs like me or you go to bars without your mask on as if it is 2019 and you can still party like it's 1999. Some people fall in the middle. All of us are over it. 

Well. Until next time. Those jalepenos in the fridge aren't going to lick themselves. 

The Hug

The other day I went with my Aunty to go pick up a pizza we'd ordered. While she was in the restaurant, I saw my childhood friend CeCe leaving the gas station.
"CeCe!" I yelled.
She came over to me and I was so happy to see her that I lost myself and I gave her a hug. Immediately, an alarm went off in my brain. NO TOUCHY! She didn't seem bothered by it, but I was so scared that I could've contracted Covid-19 that I almost threw up right there.
It's not my fault! In the area we were in, no one had on a mask. A young couple was making out by the burger joint pick up window an arm's length away from us. NO ONE had on a mask. It was a beautiful sunny day. I was seduced I tell you by the beautiful weather and by the fact that no one, and I do mean no one around me, seemed to be practicing any Covid precautions.
I always have known that touch is my love language, but Covid has shown this to me head on. I have literally be jonesing for a hug and as we all know, hugs are now a no-no.
You would think I would have gotten this through my head the last time I was in the grocery store. I ran into a grandmother from my nephew's pre-K play date, which has sense been Covid-canceled, and I was so happy to see her that I leaned in to give her a hug.
"No hugs!" she yelled so loudly that everyone in the store froze. The security looked over like he was ready to cuff me right there. Again, hugs are a no-no! Especially when it comes to elderly people.
I have tried hugging myself, but it's not the same, go figure. At the risk of sounding way to optimistic, I can't wait until Covid is over. I can't wait to touch folks again.

Mathematics

If you are anything like me, you have been sitting at home, hiding from Rona. All this hiding has given me a lot of time to do some very sad and painful math.
I'm 35-years-old. I have had 3 great loves in my life. 2 of them are married to women that are almost insultingly opposite from me, and the other was gay and has died. I have 0 in savings. I have accumulated 0 wealth. I have entertained countless losers, which all ended up going nowhere. Add, subtract, and multiply that up and all you get is a remainder of 1: me. I can't say that this is where I thought I would be in my mid 30s, but to be fair, I haven't had real expectations for my life since I was 7, and those expectations were based off of what I saw on episodes of Lifestyles of The Rich and Famous with Robin Leach.
To add insult to injury, I was also able to do some math when it came to the time I have wasted on unrequited love. Those of you who have read my other posts know that I am acutely aware of, mindful of, and saddened by the amount of time I have wasted on different things. But when it comes to the time I have flushed daydreaming about crushes, men who didn't care, or men who were head over heels in love with my homegirls, the math is even more disappointing. I crushed the numbers and you won't believe the results! Over the years, I could have gotten an advanced degree, built a house from the ground up, walked to California, learned how to sew, taught myself to play the piano, shaved my head and watched my hair grow back, gotten my teaching license, and taken a cruise around the world FOUR times in the time that I have wasted worried about men who weren't an option.
As my friend Bells pointed out to me today, I am closer to forty than I am to thirty, so if I want to make something happen, I need to make a move. There is no more time to waste. The math supports this fact.

Love In The Time of Corona

I'm sorry that I have been absent. But, much like I assume you have been, I have been obsessed with these Coronavirus outbreak updates honey, and none of them have been good. Schools have gone digital. Countries have quarantined themselves. People have gotten into fist fights over toilet paper in the grocery store. And while watching the news 24/7 could lead one to believe that the world is about to end I could only think of one thing: what if I die of Coronavirus before I find true love? Would that not be tragic?!
Long ago, I read an article in a magazine about a young psychologist who had gotten the opportunity to serve as a woman's counselor for immigrants that had just fled to her country from a refugee camp. She was eager to dig into the issues that she assumed that she was going to be hearing about which were depression, anger, homesickness, mourning, etc. But, after talking to a few ladies, she was surprised. All these downtrodden refugees who had been ripped from their native lands under extreme, horrifying, and even deadly circumstances wanted to talk about were their romantic relationships in the camps. Some of their guys went to other countries. Others were having their heads turned by other women now that they were safe and sound. Isn't it funny that in times of distress we rely on our basic needs: food, water, shelter, and love?
Sunday, my pastor discussed how the Coronavirus is reminding people that they are not going to live forever and they need to get right with the Lord. Sadly, all I could think about was how we are not going to live forever and how I don't want to leave the planet before I meet the guy of my dreams. I don't care if he's old, ugly, deformed, or missing a leg or something. He can borrow one of mine! But I would at least like to spend a day with him, even if we are just holding hands from our hospital beds in the Corona quarantine facility.
Maybe, as always, my priorities are a smidge off. It's just funny how love is always a top priority, even when it should be avoiding a lung distressing killer virus.