THE CORONA PAPERS 4/8/20

So yesterday, I had a thought that shows something, I’m not sure what.

I’m in the process of getting my teeth straightened with a product called Invisalign, and my dentist instructed me right from the start that I needed to wear the plastic device at least twenty-two hours a day.

 Well, that’s a lot of hours in the day for wearing anything, but I’ve been pretty good. I take both parts out right before eating, put them in again right after eating, and don’t take a lot of time over meals. The clock ticks and every five minute segment in the au natural state nips at me. Don’t waste time!

This has been going on for a number of weeks, and I’m sure getting tired of it. Snack? Take ’em out. Hot chocolate? Take ’em out. And I’m someone who grazes, eats every two or three hours, just like a baby. I used to, anyway, and sometimes, I’m just hungry. Well . . . Take ’em out, put ’em in. Don’t dawdle.

But yesterday, I got to thinking. Wait. Twenty-two hours isn’t so bad. Not with a twenty-five hour day. Can’t I do math? Twenty-five minus twenty-two is definitely three. It was true when I was four years old, and it is still true. Math doesn’t change with the times, at least not at the level I reached, which, admittedly, was not the highest. However, most of the time, I can add and subtract and keep track of my bank account. I’m not trying to be an architect or engineer, but you never know. These things can come up later, and then I will regret daydreaming in Algebra One.

But I don’t care who you are, twenty-five-minus twenty-two is always three.

 I’m trying to distract you from your main argument. I know what it is. Now. Yesterday, I was in this bubble. Of some kind. Lalaland.

So I thought, as John and I were approaching dinnertime yesterday, that a little appetizer might be nice. A little relaxing time with music playing before we actually had dinner. What would be wrong with that in the middle of living on the moon? I had one more hour of Invisilign-free time than I’d been operating on. Ahhh!

We sat down on the loveseat, my beloved and I, and commenced our no-pressure, private, Invisilign-free feast. I began to tell John of my mistake, that I had three hours instead of two, three hours of freedom that could be used for any ladeda adventure. I could last until after dinner. Wasn’t that great?

But as soon as I opened my mouth, after the guess what?—the bubble burst. The imp who lives on my shoulder laughed right out loud.

What? Twenty-five hours in the day? You get three hours of freedom? On what planet do you live?

So I’m losing my mind. I’m going to be committed.

On the other hand, maybe a twenty-five hour day is what we need. Either that or a slower beat, a slower clock. And thou beside me in the wilderness.

As I said, I’m not sure what all this shows about me, but I’m opting for the twenty-five hour day.  Try it. Who’s to know when you live on the moon?

By authorsusanshaw

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