Coronavirus - The Euphoric Journey

With the exception of taking an occasional emergency call for work or running out to pick up dinner, real-life society has been reduced to Tina and the random wildlife that lives in my backyard. But isolation can bring excitement from the strangest of places...

For example, earlier this week I actually looked forward to taking the trash out to the street. As I gathered up the trash bags from the various waste bins around the house, I could hardly contain my excitement as I anticipated the journey to the end of the driveway. As I pulled the trash can and recycling bin towards the street, I looked around for any other signs of life. To my dismay, there was none. However, other trash cans lined up along the street gave me hope that my neighbors were still alive and kicking.

Fully energized by the trash can run, I decided to keep the party going by swinging by the mailbox. Opening the mailbox as slowly as possible in an effort to preserve the moment, I was delighted to find a pile of junk mail waiting for me. I grabbed the assorted envelopes and advertisements and made my way back towards the house. Tina stopped me in my tracks and ordered me to leave my newfound bounty in the garage.  This was so I didn't bring any "corona bugs" into the house. So, I popped a beer from the garage fridge. And then I sat down and thumbed through a Harbor Freight Tools catalog. An impromptu Happy Hour. Woo-hoo! (I guess this would classify as one of those "When life gives you lemons" moments?)

Speaking of adventures in the garage, on Tuesday I was walking through the garage without my shoes on. (This is because Tina makes me leave my shoes outside to prevent "corona bugs" from coming into the house). As I turned and made my way back towards the house, my right foot violently slammed into the door step. The pain came fast and furious! I was afraid to look down as I imagined my pinkie toe pointing in some unnatural direction. When I finally gathered the courage to look down, I was somewhat relived to see the pinkie toe was still pretty much inline with it's siblings. But it was already beginning to swell and it was throbbing like a beast. So, feeling like I just got hobbled by Kathy Bates, I pulled myself up the step and slowly made my way into the kitchen. There, I grabbed a paper towel and filled it with ice. After preparing the ice pack, I prescribed my pain meds by pouring a generous glass of Woodford Reserve bourbon. With the ice pack in one hand and the pain killer in the other, I limped toward the back porch. Tina caught me in the corner of her eye from the living room and asked, "What's wrong with your foot?"

I replied, "Nothing really. I walked into the step in the garage. I think I broke my toe."

All I heard was laughter as I closed the porch door behind me. Through the years, I learned to accept this reaction from her. Is anyone still wondering why I drink?

Well, the weekend is finally here (like it really matters anymore). My foot is still a little tender but I can walk well enough on it. So, I'm planning a trip out to the shed today. I'm not sure what awaits me but I am up for the challenge. Stay optimistic and be safe, my friends!

kw