I’ve never celebrated a birthday in quarantine before, and I have to say it was the strangest of all birthdays. However, I am a strong believer in optimism. And so this year, I’m takin’ my Corona with a big, fat wedge of lime. (Metaphorically speaking, that is. To me, Corona’s always tasted like piss.)
Author: Merri Petrovits
Parting words from a wise fourth-grader named Emilia…
“Bye, everyone! Be safe! Don’t let your brains turn into mush! Remember to wash your hands. And whatever you do, don’t pick your nose!”
The quarantine begins.
Last week I thought to myself, “This is the suckiest March in the history of suck-filled Marches. I’m entering my late forties. There’s not a break to be seen until spring. And we didn’t get a single snow day!”
My next more optimistic thought was, “Then again, we’ll get out on time for once. It’ll be the first year we don’t nearly host a Fourth of July picnic in the school cafeteria.”
Today I discovered spring break is coming early, and my school won’t open its doors “until further notice.”
You don’t enter your late forties without a full understanding of curve balls. But damn.
I’d say it’s time to start putting groundhogs in charge of the National Weather Service.
