Here I am in Paradise Prison.  It’s really quite lovely.  Two bedrooms, two baths. Plenty of toilet paper and Wipes.  A big kitchen with a big well-stocked refrigerator. . A big screen TV and an art studio.  Plus .. a lovely view of a pond.  We have very nice neighbors and the neighborhood is lovely. The grass and foliage are well groomed.  The pest control guy comes around on a regular basis. We just had all of the roofs cleaned by a company called Fiddler on the Roof (I’m guessing that somebody on our Board of Directors felt that their name had a certain je ne se qua.  We have a small club house where people play Mahjong, Poker, Billiards and Ping Pong.  We also have an auditorium where we occasionally invite an entertainer to sing, dance or tell jokes.  And, we have a lovely pool.

Then came an unwanted visitor to our corner of paradise.  Not a burglar or a Peeping Tom or a car thief or anything like that.  It was kind of a Sci-Fri visitor from who knows where?   You couldn’t see it, feel it, taste, it or, touch it.  But, it was a menace for sure.  And, it carries a nasty upper respiratory infection.  If it grabs you by the throat, there’s a good chance you’ll have seen your last sunrise.  It’s called, Novel Coronavirus (COVID-19).

And, so we went from paradise to prison.  First our parks and golf courses were closed.  Then our wildlife refuges. Then the authorities closed our non-essential businesses.  And, our restaurants were closed (sans take out), And, then they told us to “stay in place” for six weeks. And, then they closed our pool.

So, we sit in our lovely paradise prison.  We watch TV with news that gets bleaker and bleaker. And, we eat .. breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, snack.  And we take our puppy out for a walk (but, we must keep our distance from other dog walkers).  We can’t even sit on the bench by our pond (unless we’re alone with our dog).  Forget about having dinner with friends .. unless we’re eight feet apart.  So, I spend my days writing wisecracks on FaceBook.  I’m convincing myself that I’m sharpening my comedic writing skills.  Excerpt, it’s harder and harder to be funny.

Maybe I’ll have a different outlook in six weeks and miraculously turn a corner bursting into uncontrollable laughter?  Or, maybe I’ll write about the end of the world?