Now is the time to be grateful for your friends, even though they won’t come over. If you don’t have friends, now is the time to regret being such a cunt.

Now is the time to refuse to call anything “the new normal.” Nothing is normal any more. Don’t pretend it’s normal and don’t adapt to it if it isn’t.

Now is the time to stop fixating on toilet paper. Think of people in India who never had toilet paper. Think of the girls in third world countries who don’t have sanitary pads or tampons!

Now is the time to stay away from Twitter, where no one can do a single thing without incurring the wrath of a billion lunatics looking for the scapegoat du jour. That way madness lies, or you know, The New Madness.

Now is the time to avoid lists of fun things to do at home. You aren’t at summer camp. You’re under house arrest! Admit it!

Now is the time to be the person you wanted to be, instead of the person you are. Be the better person. Pretend to care about your neighbors and ask them what you can pick up for them when you go out to stand in line for water and Tylenol. Call or text everyone to ask if they need help with anything.

Now is the time to retain your sense of humor! Shit is still funny! I’m trying to prank an entity that invited me to attend a fake Women’s Summit in my city. Keep your fingers crossed that they take my bait!

Now is the time to experiment with make up. No one knows that in real life, you don’t wear blue lipstick. So now you can!

When everything is forbidden, you are free from the old rules!

That’s all I have for now, comrades. Let me know what’s on your minds.

~

*cartoon by Sam Wallman and Miroslav Sandev

I knew it would make me feel better to check in with Sea of Money and Mom. But I had no idea of the folly that awaited me there.

Sea reveals that she’s been busy “working” with the rack of furs that Mom has been buying since the beginning of the year.   She notes of these furs that Mom “has…..curated quite the collection.”

People, does it get better than this?!?

Where I come from, this is called “hoarding” or even “stockpiling.” But now we are all curators!

I believe I have curated quite the collection of jeans, since I was unable to locate my Comfortable Jeans in a timely fashion when I was anxious to get back to the hospital one day last week. I flipped through piles of folded jeans, desperately tossing them aside, and finally giving up in frustration. It was a clumsy Aesop’s fable: The woman who was stymied by her greed for jeans. I ended up settling for the awful harem pants and spent the day looking like a crazy bag lady after adding my nephew’s long, patchwork cardigan.

While Sea and Mom spend their time plundering the world of its fur coats, one can’t help but wonder, What about Carol?

Carol, we are worried about you. Did they put you in the attic? Are you being held hostage under a tarp in the backyard? Did they send you to a Swiss boarding school or a musty convent?

You’re a person too, Carol, even if you can’t design shoes or curate hideous animal-shaped belt buckles! You matter. Let me know where you are and I’ll pick you up ASAP. You can come with me to the hospital, where nothing matters but life it self. In the end, the shoes won’t help at all. Maybe you already know that. I hope so! That would be epic.