I don’t know about you, but the next time I hear someone refer to the “new normal,” I think I might scream into my middle daughter’s unacceptable new bikini bottoms that I plan to confiscate and turn into a coronavirus face mask. If adjusting my daily activities according to COVID-19 protocol is now the norm, I’m ready to declare myself an official freakazoid, which is how most people (especially my family members) see me, anyway.
I just can’t accept this way of life, and I’m not gonna take it anymore – unless the government, medical professionals, the local Walmart manager and my wife tell me to. I now invite you to commiserate with me about various aspects of life that have gotten on my first, middle and last nerve.
Speaking of the Walmart manager, I’m not sure I can tolerate another shopping trip for my three daughters’ nutritional requirements – like tater tots, cocktail wieners and Reddi-wip. I’ve been to the local Walmart so many times over the past two months that I recently dreamed I had to fight off an attempt by the manager to fit me with one of those “Proud Associate” vests.
