What Harms Us

The spread of the novel coronavirus has turned on my megaphone and I exercise my right to speak freely to the unaware whilst waiting in line or anywhere else.  Even though it is acceptable to espouse my hygienic philosophies on-the-spot, I do feel surlier than usual. 

Yet another tiresome, unconscious person licked my backside yesterday with his rude body vapors. “Six feet,” I stated over my shoulder. Don’t you watch, listen to or read the news? I don’t want to smell you, feel you or share with you. I could have gone on.

A hint of proselytizing is less taxing than faking a Charlie horse in line. That was me on a regular basis, unnaturally extending one leg backwards in a futile attempt to claim personal space. Its failing was in the interpretation. And I have short legs.

The self-centered stupor of the majority has spoken and their best orientation to life-saving sanitary measures is toilet paper evidenced by the empty shelves in America’s grocery stores. The shelves also tell us that the most people survive on orange juice, pasta, Clorox, bread and meat. Maybe this clarifies the need for excessive amounts of toilet paper. 

This barbaric notion that what harms us is obvious won’t budge easily, and by the time it does, it could be too late for millions of people.  

Not one epidemiologist has prioritized toilet paper yet we have hysterical, frenzied hoarding. If the same passion for rolls was redirected towards following the basic, well publicized, readily available tenets of mitigation, fewer of us will be responsible for someone else’s demise, or our own. So back off. Crawling up my back won’t make anything better.