Lisa Scottoline: Reopen, sesame!
My point is that nobody should judge what you do to feel safe in these awful times. The coronavirus is deadly, and it impacts different people differently. For example, I’m a senior citizen until this is over. Then I go back to being a spring chicken.
It’s Lisa Quarantine, reporting from underneath the bed.
Before I begin, let me explain.
I am horrified by the coronavirus, and by the death and suffering it’s causing Americans and the world. People are dying every day, and many of us know someone who has passed after contracting the virus. We are all worried about our families and ourselves.
In fact, that's my subject today.
Because I read that the attorney general said, “When this period of time, at the end of April, expires, I think we have to allow people to adapt more than we have, and not just tell people to go home and hide under their bed … .”
He’s a lawyer, and I guess he represents people who would never hide under their bed in a lethal pandemic.
But I'm a lawyer, too. And I'm hereby volunteering to represent people who are hiding under the bed.
I mean, have you seen the TV news?
Hiding under the bed is a rational response to the circumstances.
In fact, that’s my free legal advice.
Go and hide under your bed.
Or hide behind a chair.
Hiding behind the curtain is also good.
Maybe you can even squeeze inside the cabinet.
Keep your mind open, and also the lid of any nearby trunk. Then jump inside.
At least cover your eyes. Then the virus can’t see you.
Obviously, I’m joking. My point is that nobody should judge what you do to feel safe in these awful times. The coronavirus is deadly, and it impacts different people differently. For example, I’m a senior citizen until this is over. Then I go back to being a spring chicken.
So anyone who feels like hiding under the bed doesn’t need to be mocked.
On the contrary, I stand for scaredy cats.
What, you say you're wearing a mask?
Good, I'm wearing a bucket.
What, you say you rinse your groceries?
I wash mine with soap.
Yesterday I lathered up a spaghetti squash.
If I could fit a cardboard box in a dishwasher, I would.
What, you say you don't touch your mail for three days?
I don't touch mine for five. Especially the bills.
And I never touch my face anymore.
Instead I touch my breasts.
For obvious reasons.
As your lawyer, I support anything you do to feel safe during this time.
So I will defend your right to hide under your bed.
It's absolutely filthy under mine, but I'm not coming out until I’m damn good and ready.
For example, I just read a new study by the CDC that suggests the coronavirus can travel 13 feet in the air.
Yikes.
I can’t travel 13 feet in the air.
I can barely jump off the ground.
And a study by the New England Journal of Medicine says that the coronavirus can last 96 hours on a glass of water.
I can’t even compute how many days equals 96 hours.
The good news is that the coronavirus can last only four hours on copper.
The bad news is that I'm fresh out of copper.
If I could make a mask of copper, or even a bucket for my head, I would.
But I would still stay under the bed, wearing my copper head bucket.
I'm not coming out until doctors tell me I can.
A lawyer isn’t a doctor, and they don't teach viruses in law school. Or good hiding places when a pandemic comes calling.
Look, I want the country to reopen as much as anyone, and I know I’m lucky, in that I can work from home.
But I value my life, and yours.
So, my clients and I are going to wait until every TV doctor says it’s OK to come out, and then I’m going to call a real doctor and maybe another doctor for a second opinion, or maybe a few more doctors after that, for a 55th opinion.
Take it from Lisa Quarantine, Esq.
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.