Unbeknownst to me, today's cool kids have rediscovered esoteric little bands from my youth, and those hard-to-find albums are now in heavy rotation on Spotify.
Well, this is a first.
Well, it's official. I have been double-stabbinated and fully vaccinated. If all goes well, by this time next week, I will be 100% impervious to all disease and an immortal superhero with direct 5G access to Bill Gates and the Illuminati.
As I've mentioned in previous columns, it was NOT a terrific winter for yours truly.
Nothing makes me feel older than sitting around and letting my mind wander back to the good old days. And there's nothing like a pandemic to give you PLENTY of time for mind-wandering. When you're stuck on the same couch for the better part of a calendar year, suddenly good old days start feeling like GREAT old days.
Exciting news, all: I have a new BFF.
I may have been on this planet for some five decades now, but nothing seems more preposterous than the idea of some young person turning to ME for sagely wisdom about life. Frankly, I'm just not real good at this "existence" business. I will never pretend to be better than you, because I know I'm not. I don't even know HOW to get on a high horse.
Last week, I selfishly used this column as therapy. I just wanted to whine about my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad weekend. What started as an earnest attempt to organize my kitchen turned into an all-nighter of clutter and chaos. Then I was awakened the next morning after three hours sleep by a malfunctioning smoke detector.
If there's a silver lining to be found in this pandemic, it's that isolation and quarantine can often be educational. Every day, I'm learning something new.
I've spent most of the winter stuck at home enjoying a fun menu of health issues, which has been just swell. And when you're spending most days in the same room on the same couch convinced you're dying, you start to go a little stir-crazy. I've spent months looking for an escape to take my mind off winter, the pandemic, and the fluctuating state of my colon.
What is it that makes me write a column every week? Is it the satisfaction of speaking my mind to a public forum? The hope that I might make someone's day a little brighter? Seeing my incredibly sexy face in the paper every week?