The Corona Chronology: Day 19

At first, things were pleasant. But not for long…


George, left: “Say, darling, what do you suppose we should have for dinner?”

Liz, right: “What do you mean? We have cocktails. Isn’t that enough?”

George: “Well, sure. For now. But eventually we’ll need something to soak up the alcohol.”

Liz: “I think there’s a bowl of peanuts around here somewhere.”

George: “Oh, that would be a great start. But you know we need more than that. Especially if we want to keep drinking.”

Liz: “Of course I know that. Why do you always have to accuse me of being stupid?”

George: “I wasn’t exactly accusing, my little soggy Chia Pet. I was simply inquiring about a more substantial bit of sustenance.”

Liz: “And why do you have to use fancy words all the time? Just because you teach at a college doesn’t mean you have to teach me. And why do I have to make dinner? I’m not some little cooking trollop at your beck and call, like all those teaching assistant tramps you keep dictating to in your office. As if I didn’t know.”

George: “I wasn’t expecting you to cook. I was just trying to find out what you wanted me to cook. Why is this so hard? We used to make dinner decisions all the time without baseless accusations of cuisine slavery and infidelity.”

Liz: “Because those decisions usually involved which restaurant we would be going to that night, not who has to shove what in an oven that neither of us knows how to use. But now we can’t go anywhere and my ass is puckered about having the same four walls around me all the time.”

George: “So the pandemic lockdown is getting on your nerves a little, is it?”

Liz: “A little! Pull your head out, Professor Plum in the kitchen with a candlestick. I used to have very happy days where I didn’t see you for big chunks of time. Now your face is in every place that I am. I can’t leave the house to get away from your never-ending face, except to buy food that is piling up in the kitchen because eating isn’t fun when you have to make it yourself. And we have to wear masks and we have to sterilize everything and we have to order liquor online! It’s just too much. I’m losing my mind and having dark thoughts and all we do is sit on this ugly-ass couch all the time and one of these days I’m going to grab your stupid candlestick and start swinging until you shut your never-ending mouth and-”


Liz: “Did you just slap me?”

George: “Um, no. It wasn’t me. It was Jesus. The power of Christ compelled me.”

Liz: “That’s a bunch of crap. We aren’t the least bit religious. You just wanted to hit me.”

George: “I didn’t want to, I just felt it was necessary if I wanted to survive until the next post at Bonnywood.”

Liz: “Oh. Well, I understand that. Bonnywood is always introducing characters who never show up again. In that case, thank you for bringing me back down. I want to live again in the sequel as well. Incarceration for my perfectly-justified crime of passion might prevent that.”

George: “Good. So, back to this dinner thing…”

Liz: “I think I made my preferences clear.”

George: “Peanuts and vodka?”

Liz: “At least until they find a cure and a vaccine.”

George: “That sounds reasonable. I’ve lived through worse. Did I ever tell you about the time I-”

Liz: “Less talking. More drinking.”

George: “Got it.”


27 replies »

  1. I’m sure this is happening in a lot of households right now. Especially the drinking. I’m just so glad that Ken and I had the foresight 16 years ago to buy a large Victorian house in the country. At least we have a lot of rooms in between us when we, or should I say, I am on the brink of a Covid meltdown!

    Liked by 1 person

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