My Covid winter bucket list
“Between the cold weather, lax behaviors and the holidays, December and January will be the worst months the United States has seen so far in the COVID-19 pandemic, public health experts said this week.” — USA Today, Nov. 10, 2020
As the Covid pandemic heads into a Game of Thrones winter when snow, ice and freezing winds conspire with a deadly virus to make us stay indoors, order more delivery, fatten even more, and perhaps die sooner because of defiant mask-less troglodytes, I am planning to celebrate life before I succumb to what Trump patriots are calling the “Fauci Plague.”
My 2020–21 winter Covid-19 pandemic bucket list starts with:
Getting more buckets
I completely ran out of home items to shop for online and be overwhelmingly delighted by the overnight Amazon delivery when it arrives and I clap and waddle-dance in glee like a poopy-diaper toddler on Christmas morning, which my Amazon delivery person has seen too many times on his rounds this year and is seeking counseling for.
Then I noticed I don’t have enough buckets around here to speak of.
So, I sent Amazon my bucket list starting with an ice bucket, commercial mop bucket, ash bucket, three wine buckets and an industrial pail. I also have my eye on the Rubbermaid® Utility Bucket with Spout, 10 Quart, Red. Shaweet!
I doubled over in laughter to myself at my bucket-list joke to myself because I’m going insane from cabin fever and finding a healthy way to enjoy the trip. How are you getting through this better, Monsieur, Madame or Mademoiselle Judgy?
Not climbing Machu Picchu
I’ve always not really wanted to experience the thrill of mounting this 15th-century Inca citadel, a wonder of the world in the Eastern Cordillera of southern Peru that will completely change your perspective on life and make you hate tourists even more.
Sadly, now I cannot climb Machu Picchu anytime soon, you know, on account of the Covid travel warnings.
Next best thing, I’ll just climb the stairs to my bed at 4:30 pm as dusk turns to darkness to watch Hulu Seinfeld reruns on my phone until I doze off and my phone drops from my hands onto my chest, waking and reminding me to set my alarm for the crack of dawn at 10 am.
What an exhilarating thrill/fright I also can avoid because, again due to the Covid restrictions, I can’t have an awesome, U.S. Parachute Assn.-rated skydiving instructor spooning me, like Trump on a pageant contestant, as we plummet two miles to my so-called not certain death.
Not falling deep, deeply in love
Like in the irritating Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros song, “Home.”
“Do you remember that day you fell out of my window?”
“I sure do, you came jumping out after me.”
“Well, you fell on the concrete, nearly broke your ass
And you were bleedin’ all over the place
And I rushed you out to the hospital, you remember that?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, there’s something I never told you about that night.”
“What didn’t you tell me?”
“While you were sitting in the backseat smoking a cigarette
You thought was gonna be your last
I was falling deep, deeply in love with you.”
That sounds awesomely romantical. In a sweetly stupid MAGA way, even though Edward Sharpe whatever is a folk band and probably pretty liberal.
And—this is just me — I would prefer to avoid the whole falling from a window, breaking of ass, and bleeding thing. Also, I’m not fond of smokers.
Bottom line, I love how the Covid makes falling deep, deeply in love even more impossible. It makes life less, how to say, “complicated.” You can avoid whatever his or her issues are and also being on a breathing tube or dying for love because he or she gave you the Covid.
Although wouldn’t it be deep, deeply romantical like Romeo and Juliet who (spoiler alert!) both died for love?
Finally watching Game of Thrones
I’ve never seen a single episode. I’ve just read about its addictive, gripping awesomeness.
Plus, I loved Peter Dinklage from the acclaimed 2003 film, “The Station Agent,” and also in “30 Rock” (Season 3 Episode 7).
So, ok, I’ll “waste” thousands of hours catching up on what everyone already knows and were deep, deeply captivated by it, yet somehow they managed to move on with their lives and barely remember Game of Thrones.
See Trump frog-walked from the White House
Hey, if the overwhelming majority of decent Americans would be deep, deeply happy if the Great MAGA Pumpkin were to be escorted away, shackled in prison orange after his high crimes and misdemeanors, and also making America much worse, including spreading the Covid and killing people first and foremost those who stupidly still love and trust him, then who am I to not enjoy along with them?
Jeffrey Denny is a Washington writer.nd