Lisa Scottoline: When You’re Going Through Hell, Keep Going

It’s Lisa Quarantine, reporting for duty.

On Day 20,398,372 of captivity.

Or maybe it just feels that way.

Not that I'm complaining.

On the upside, I'm alive.

And so are you.

Yay.

And as I always preface this column, I'm well aware that a global pandemic is no laughing matter. But you're here for a reason, and so am I, and we will get through this with a weekly reminder that we still know how to smile.

So, welcome.

Also I'm guessing that many of you are experiencing the same kind of thing that I am. For starters, you're running out of things you never cared about before.

Like laundry detergent.

Let's get real.

Back when I was Lisa Scottoline, I lived alone, worked alone, and never left my desk. Which meant that I didn't change my clothes that often.

Especially in winter, when I dress like a teddy bear, and if it’s cold at night, I even slept in what I had worn that day.

Impressed, yet?

You may call it slovenly, but I call it self-employed.

But that was Lisa Scottoline, not Lisa Quarantine.

Lisa Quarantine is improving her personal grooming now that she lives with Daughter Francesca, who didn't realize that her mother was growing penicillin in her armpits.

A parent’s mission in life is to disillusion their children.

Francesca hasn't complained, but I decided to get my act together, which means that I’m actually doing laundry, and so I ran out of laundry detergent. I improvised using dishwashing liquid, shampoo, and finally, hair conditioner.

I'm here to tell you that all of these things worked.

Pro tip: Don’t use too much.

Your house will fill with bubbles.

But your shirts will shine.

Other shortages have been harder to cope with, since I'm still too afraid to go to the grocery store and I'm relying on the deliveries.

Thank you, delivery people.

If you haven’t done remote food shopping, it’s a godsend.

On the downside, you don't get to pick out your own produce.

On the upside, you stay alive.

How it works is that you fill out your shopping list online, giving your cell phone number, and you can actually text the shopper while they are shopping for you. Last time, my shopper was Mike T., and when Mike T. went shopping for me, he texted me substitutions for my beloved Barilla pasta, which was out of stock, and we even had a text conversation about whether the broccoli looked fresh.

It's sexting for middle-aged women.

If Mike T. is reading this, I'm sorry.

Just keep texting.

I mean, er, shopping.

And while Mike T. was shopping, I kept thinking of things to add to the list, and Mike T. didn't get annoyed. He even managed to score the last box of Annie's Mac & Cheese.

Honestly the best sex I ever had.

» FAQ: Your coronavirus questions, answered.

But the food deliveries come about 10 days apart, so Francesca and I are rationing. We eat the perishable items first, so we have two days of salads and fruits, then we have canned goods until the next delivery or scurvy, whichever comes first.

Our preferred canned good is baked beans.

Again, not complaining. Baked beans are amazing. You can eat them cold straight out of the can, but don't ask me how I know.

Mother Mary used to add ketchup, so I do, too.

Other people may be making sourdough bread during the pandemic, but I'm squeezing a plastic container of ketchup into a can of beans.

Which of us burps more?

I hope the deliveries continue, but I’m beginning to worry that someday soon I may have to venture into the grocery store. I heard that my local store had started early shopping for the elderly.

Lisa Scottoline is not elderly.

But Lisa Quarantine might be.

On the other hand, I heard that the elderly hours are 6 o’clock in the morning.

So maybe I'm not that elderly yet.

If they started at 9 o’clock, I might be elderly.

But if they start at dawn, I'm texting Mike T.

I never liked it in the morning, but I might start.

Look for Lisa and Francesca’s humor collection, “I See Life Through Rosé-Colored Glasses,” and Lisa’s novel, “Someone Knows," in stores now. Also you can preorder Francesca’s debut novel, “Ghosts of Harvard,” publishing May 5.