It’s been a week since I joined the quarantine with the rest of the masses. I’d been driving through the apocalyptic wasteland from Chicago. Not much was out of the ordinary. My companion and I were able to order food at restaurants and drink beer, but this time, in the parking lot. Throughout our journey, we only “dined-in” once in North Platte, Nebraska. Returning home, I hardly noticed anything after the first few days of no social activity. I hardly noticed anything until I realized I couldn’t go to the local brewery. New ways to entertain myself started coming to light though it’s different and a bit lonely. Mostly I’m upset that I’m paying an exorbitant amount of rent in one of the most expensive cities where nothing is open. I might as well be living in backwoods South Dakota.

My bank account is much healthier avoiding leaving my home. I haven’t filled up gas in a week. I looked at the number and thought, “Wow! Too bad I have nothing to spend the money on”. I haven’t left my neighborhood and don’t expect to anytime soon. The only time I go out is to get groceries. The grocery store is horrifying and exciting. I have to eat, but every time I go, I take a higher risk of contracting the virus. Initially, I would frequent the grocery store as a means of social activity, but recognizing this danger, I’ve become smarter at buying non-perishable items and eating perishable items, quickly, to avoid spoilage. The initial madness is gone and the hoarders have grabbed most everything. Now that they’re out of the picture, I’m sitting on 20 rolls of Charmin Ultra.

At the store, I searched high and low for garlic in the hopes of making a tomato basil soup. I was able to find everything else on the list. Finally, after looking underneath each of the produce sections, I found some bougie already “roasted garlic”. Do rich people need to pay more for garlic that’s already been roasted? I mean, my plan was to roast the garlic on my own, but now it’ll be twice-baked. I figured the soup wouldn’t be great with this fancy garlic, so I made a pizza instead. It seemed like a good idea to smother the pizza in garlic, pineapple, broccoli, and green peppers. The broccoli could have been cooked a bit more, but the golden crust and bright radioactive red sauce was of godly origin. Need I remind you that pineapple does belong on pizza? Heathen!

I opened a bottle of Spanish granache and poured a smidge of wine like a waiter at a high-end restaurant was bringing it to me. I recalled I had only sent a wine back once and that was my mistake in ordering champagne. As my imaginary waiter poured a small taste into my glass, I let it breathe and returned to writing away. I thanked the server and shooed him away. The wine exhibited a tart taste and exhibited notes of smoky wood and blackberries. An economical purchase, I do say!

Whether you have a Bentley or a Buick, the virus does not care. I used to make this same analogy that some of us have nice cars while others have poor cars yet we’re stuck on the 405 together. Then, there’s the people that don’t have cars. LA prefers to forget about them, but I hope we start treating each other better and focus on ourselves as a collective rather than this taxing individualism. It isn’t helping!

Although, for now, take a moment, imagine yourself at a nice restaurant. You deserve it. Pour yourself a glass of Spanish red, thank your waiter or server or whomever you choose. Think of something you’re grateful for, take a moment of silence and burst out laughing. Life’s gonna be weird for a while. At the least, have fun with it! Cheers.

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