Column
The Quarantine Diaries: The Dog Is Blessedly Clueless About Coronavirus
Drew Magary reflects on Covid-19, social distancing, and life under self-quarantine. Part one of a series.
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We’re almost out of eggs. There are four left in the house, and we’re gonna need more. Hole yourself up inside for days on end — with the prospect of those days stretching into a great many months — and you swiftly become cognizant of what really matters. No, that’s not a metaphor. I am talking literally about vital sundries: toilet paper, milk, butter, eggs, bread, chocolate, etc. This is all the shit people in my state always buy in a panic when an inch of snow might fall. Turns out they had the right idea, just the wrong occasion.
I lived like a normal person last week. I walked my kids to the bus stop in the morning. I worked. I went to the gym. I took my son to the doctor for a routine physical (he’s fine). I bought a shitload of groceries. I took my son to his youth basketball team’s final game of the season, and the boys screamed “Coronavirus!” instead of “Cheese!” for their group photo afterward. I even went out to a crowded bar with a friend, the way every stubborn idiot in Nashville is still doing as we speak. I got in every last taste of my normal routine before the news made it clear that said routine had to end for the time being, if not permanently.
I should’ve bought more eggs. One of them was cracked in the carton yesterday, and I ate it to prevent waste. If I die of salmonella, at least I didn’t die of the other thing.
We have a new grocery list. Yes, we have beans out the ass: enough to feed an army of hobos. But I don’t like beans that much. Meanwhile, our more desirable stores of fresh produce, meat, frozen waffles, and other essentials are rapidly depleting. The supermarkets here are still open, but we live in a state of COVID-19 paranoia, where every inanimate object and every person from the outside is potentially lethal, no matter how benign it or they may seem. Plus, we’re trying to obey all the do-it-yourself PSAs out there suggesting that we act as if we already have the virus.
Between my wife and me, I’ve been the more loosey-goosey one about adhering to these…
