Stuck at home alone, I've been thinking a lot about moistness. And droplets.
Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau hopes social isolation will stop people "talking moistly", which is what fancy people say instead of "say it, don't spray it" and is why he is the boss of a government and I am not.
There ought to be a poster, like those wartime ones, in the vein of "Loose Lips Sink Ships". It should say: "Moist Murmurs Murder Many, You Malicious Muppet", though Talking Moistly is a good title for that erotically charged murder mystery many of us have been meaning to write while cooped up at home. Hands off Wet Chats. It is reserved for my upcoming podcast featuring interviews with sea lions.
Anyway, the thing that has changed the most in my life now that I am spending endless hours at home is noting how quickly reference points have vanished.
Concepts like "morning", "lunchtime" and "acceptable facial hair" went out the window around late February.
Last month, ideas that civilised nations have cherished faded away, among them "trousers" and "not wolfing down every meal over the sink". I am like a homeless person now, but in a much comfier set-up.
As I slouch, Gollum-like, from bedroom to fridge to computer, trying to remember the person I used to be before becoming The Thing That Dwells In The Damp Places, I think back to things taken for granted.
Such as the idea that tomorrow, things will be like today. What sweet idiots we all were, in January.
Every day brings fresh horrors, including the comments section on Covid-19 news reports.
They used to be messages of solidarity, but now, they are a roiling cauldron of hate conspiracies against China, Chinese, Chinese tea, the Chinois aesthetic, the landmass between Kazakhstan and Japan, china (the tableware), silk, jade, wontons and Chinese subtitles.
Add to that reports in credible, mainstream Western media outlets urging people in this region to get rid of sinister places we call "wet markets", as meat sold with faces still attached is wrong and makes people sick.
Their snooty opposition to wet markets, based mostly on optics, has made me alter my view of these places. I never really had an opinion about them, but I guess I am totally in love with them now?
Despite how over the last year I have visited the one near me a total of two times. I will buy more food with faces and feet attached as a show of support. Who is with me? (#TheWetterTheBetter #FacesAreFood #ToesAreTasty).
An interesting new activity is checking up on who is cracking up at a faster rate than I am. Finally, a contest in which I have an edge. It's as if my life has been building up to this moment.
Smugly, I read stories of people struggling to not go postal now that they are home all day with spouses, kids and parents. I listen closely during online meetings for cracks in the voice that indicate that a Read More – Source