One of the perhaps unexpected outcomes of our seemingly endless stay-in-place world of late is that while we might flatten the curve, at the end of the quarantine we will all have enhanced our own curves.
We will have diabetes from eating anything that resembles fat and carbs and isn’t moving. After all, when you’re bored beyond imagination, you don’t feel like nibbling on carrot sticks. And while toilet paper is harder to find than Sasquatch, there was apparently no interest in hoarding Cool Ranch Doritos. Potato chips are easy to find. Try munching on your toilet paper oh ye hoarders.
And the few who manage to moderate their intake of Double Stuffed Oreos are enjoying adult beverages, from the bloody mary at 7 a.m. as they sign on to their computers to the snifter of cognac before stumbling into bed at night. What your bosses don’t know won’t hurt them. And hey! Just put the red wine in a coffee travel mug while home schooling the kiddos. I’ll bet real teachers wish they could do that. Some probably do!
While our dearest hope is that the smart and brave people who understand the coronavirus a lot more than me will save most of the people who are infected, it’s possible that there will be a enormous increase in the number of people looking for a way to rid themselves of the results of repeated trips to the refrigerator or cookie jar. My niece Maggie calls our inevitable weight gain the Corona 20. If you think the health clubs and gyms are busy on January 2, you ain’t seen nothing yet. The lines of people waiting for the treadmill will be out the door.
And while it’s probably not true that most people are starting their day with a bloody mary, I’m guessing that many are drinking more — or at least earlier — than usual. After all, why wait until 5 o’clock? The It’s Five O’clock Somewhere policy has become the It’s Three O’clock Somewhere policy. Three o’clock seems like the perfect time for an ice cold martini, at least here in AZ where the weather is lovely and each hour feels just like the last hour. At least mixing a drink gives me something to do.
Perhaps we’re just picking our poison.