Can We Call This Thing Off, Already?

I've had it. I'm over this pandemic. I've had it up to here with living this history, something to tell my grandchildren which I'll never have because I never had children, and I can't say I feel bad that I didn't bring people into this absurd world.

I've had enough of my house, I've had enough naps to last a lifetime and enough alcohol to propel the space shuttle. I'm over Zoom happy hours and book club meetings and family reunions. I'm over Zoom. I'm over virtual tours of every museum in the universe and watching movies in my jammies from my couch. I'm over Steven Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel and Lady Gaga and the entire cast of SNL in their living rooms. 

And here I am with all the time in the world to work on my writing but I'm not writing because I am uninspired, unfocused and unmotivated. The only productive thing I've done during this time is learn to play the violin.

Kidding. The only productive thing I've done is NOTHING!

I am wallowing today. Today I've had it with being positive and uplifting. Tomorrow I'll be positive and uplifting. Unfortunately, I'm writing this blog post today. So sad for you.

I'm not the only one feeling this way because our friend Mary Wisniewski posted this poem yesterday on Facebook. It says it more eloquently than I did.

Find her at @marywizchicago and buy her book Algren: A Life.

Don’t feel like counting my blessings.
Don’t feel like watching TV
Don’t feel like looking on the bright side.
Don’t want to leave tulips on a stranger’s porch,
Or learn Polish verbs on Babbel
I’m going to drink Luksusowa with an ice cube
And a couple of olives
Listen to the Midnight Special
Read “A Clash of Kings”
And cry a little for my mom
And my dad
And my sister
And my profession, and yours
Jobs lost and lives gone and the only good thing in the rotten world
Is that you can see the Himalayas now
From Punjab. The earth is getting a break
From its human contagion
Of which I am a small, dyspeptic part.
Tomorrow I’ll be cheerful again
I’ll go to Facebook Mass
And play the accordion
And draw chalk hearts on the sidewalk
‘Cause we’re all in this together
And I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.
But tonight I’ll be gloomy
Tonight I’ll cultivate my crapitude
Like an orchid flower
And just for tonight
I decline to stay calm
And carry on.

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