I’m going nuts, although my friends would say I’ve been nuts for years. This virus named after a Mexican beer and caused by the Chinese (how I love blaming everything on the Mexicans and Chinese) is pushing me right over the edge.
I have committed no crime that I can think of, or that I am willing to confess to, and yet I find myself in the hole, yes, solitary confinement (plus my bride). Ah were I only in my 20s again to take full advantage of the situation.
It’s so strange. I am 24/7 with the one person in the world I love the most; speak to my family and friends often simply by picking up my cell phone; watch an infinite variety of entertainment thanks to Netflix; and enjoy excellent home cooked meals. And with all that and more I still feel like I am going stark raving mad.
The other day I was looking out the window of my rental home and saw perhaps fifteen or more surfers taking on the waves at Surfrider Beach. They seemed completely oblivious to the pandemic or anything else for that matter except for finding that perfect wave. I honestly believe that if a hydrogen bomb were to be dropped on Malibu, these surfers would just go on surfing. Quite frankly I envy their joie de vivre.
And then I thought I had the perfect solution to my dilemma. I would need to take surf lessons, buy my own surfboard, and then conquer the ocean. I would ride the waves and never worry about shortness of breath again.
But there is only one problem. For me there always seems to be just one problem. How am I to get surf lessons and be on top of the ocean without leaving my home? Just tell me that!