April 8th was the kickoff dinner of the second annual Soph Week, with an evening of frolic and festivities for students attending the “Hi-Guy, Hello-Girl” dance, where Jimmy Palmer’s band played swinging tunes. Here’s hoping we’ll all be in good form at the end of this trial, ready to sip and socialize.
Even slim-hipped WWII vets can’t make three a comfortable proposition in this booth. Reaching for his Coke, he’d knock a bottle over. How is the fellow in the middle supposed to move? Can he breathe with his pal’s pipe smoke literally four inches from his face?
During these heady times, it’s hard to refrain from going stir crazy. But keep in mind that cabin fever is always better than lowgrade fever. Even the President said a hell-to-the-no when Birx mentioned her fever.
In the words of Nirvana, stay away.
Running out of ideas for solo activities? Well, let’s take a cue from history.
You could make a pyramid, reminiscent of the wonder of the world. You will be self-isolating, so no one will see your Daisy Dukes or judge your ale intake.
You could bundle up under the covers and read a good book, or just the Cliff’s Notes.
Catch up on the funnies in your paper.
You could science up and create a vaccine.
Or spend time with microfilm. How long has it been?
Try tobacco! And maybe write the Great America Novel while you’re at it!
Lie on your bed (but first take your saddle oxfords off because the virus can stay on the soles of your shoes for days) and think about yesterday, when all your troubles seemed so far away.
If spring has sprung in your town, pack a sack lunch and head over to a nearby park, spray the entire bench with Lysol, sit down, and enjoy a snack, while hearing the mating calls of the doves.
And if you are part of the unfortunate “essential” few who have to be in public, remember to wear your mask.
As you can well see, we are less than a month until All Western Days. I realize we are in a bit of pandemic pickle as of late, but I see no reason to cancel every event everywhere, especially if it proves to be ripsnortin’. Don’t let it put a hitch in your giddyup.