End of the World Journals Vol. II: Chicken Coops and Basketball Hoops

0326200914_hdr7777622050785815468.jpgDear Diary,
While it was my intention to keep this log daily, I have found myself trapped in two different WalMarts engaged in hand to hand combat with other shoppers for the spoils of 2-Ply Charmin toilet tissue, bags of frozen spinach, and two cans of Star Kist tuna. I was unsuccessful in gaining these items as crossbows were not allowed in these battles and my hand to hand combat game is nowhere close to what it was when I was 20. I will try again on the ‘morrow. As I have recovered from my injuries, I will continue with my log of Corona events:

Wednesday, March 25, 2020
8:00am: All efforts to keep the former dining room, now my office, orderly have failed. There are now three monitors, two different lamps, a half eaten candy bar and three different pairs of my reading glasses strewn about the room. We may never eat in this room again as the stench of work is beginning to saturate the walls and the china cabinet.

9:45am: I have developed a fear of yawning. My COVID-19 era brain now thinks that I am at risk of inhaling unknown trillions of unknown bacteria when taking in that much air at once. I now yawn with my face pressed to a pillow; I have had to be resuscitated twice due to near suffocation in doing so. Alternate methods of yawning are undergoing testing.

10:30am: The country music has continued from the neighbor next door after a few days’ respite. A few moments’ conversation with him (from the safety of my back deck at a distance of roughly 50 feet) has revealed that he is beginning the construction of a chicken coop later today. I am unsure of his seriousness.

11:00am – 12:00pm: The sounds of sawed and hammered wood start to flow steadily from the backyard next door. He was quite serious about the chicken coop.

1:00pm: I have not had a haircut in 3.5 weeks. Being quarantined means that I’m not quite as vain as I am under normal circumstances. In a related note, I’ve grown the beginnings of a beard. Women seem to like them, however, mine just makes me look scruffy and unloved. I doubt it nets me dating prospects if the world returns to normal.

2:00pm: The local news is depressing, not only because of the stream of bad news regarding Corona in Georgia but because they don’t even have a full sports segment anymore. Just 2-3 minutes of a guy livestreaming a couple of sports notes from his living room. The don’t even let the sports guy come to work! As if sports in Atlanta needed to get more depressing.

3:00pm: Work teleconference is underway, they’re announcing the start of furloughs and layoffs, HR lady delivering the news is crying on the phone. I’m safe but this, ladies and gentlemen, is not fun.

5:00pm: The neighbor has tired of the chicken coop and has erected a basketball hoop in his front yard. I got excited and started putting on my sneakers then remembered: ball, multiple hands on ball, billions of germs on ball. Just decided to take a picture of it from the safety of the house (pictured up there); I’ll shoot in a year or so.

7:30-10:00pm: Intense binge watching session of season 7 of The Walking Dead. I’m not sure if it’s wise to watch a hit show about an apocalypse while in the midst of a budding apocalypse but here I sit, eating a Kit Kat and taking notes on how to handle things in 6 months.

11:30pm: Sitting on the back deck. I live in the airport flight path but there are no planes, all is quiet, there’s not the usual audible buzz of traffic from the main street a mile away. I spot a neighbor in the distance sitting by a fire pit in their own back yard listening to Norah Jones. It’s unfortunate that it took something this bad to bring this much peace. I close my eyes and revel in it…then I’m bitten by a mosquito, curse aloud and take my ass in the house. So much for peace.

Until the next quest…be safe.


  1. Great stuff and thank you.

    Safety note, beware of those mosquitos, smart money is on malaria to have a higher body count than Covid19 by a long shot…

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