Skip to main content

12 weeks of COVID

Yes, we are far more than 12 weeks into COVID, but I'm still writing this parody now because I don't want to wait for 12 months of COVID to go by.

 

On the first week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

A virus without a vaccine


On the second week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine


On the third week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Three new plants

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine

 

On the fourth week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Four sourdough loaves

Three new plants

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine


On the fifth week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Five TP rolls

Four sourdough loaves

Three new plants

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine


On the sixth week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Six Zooms a-crashing

Five TP rolls

Four sourdough loaves

Three new plants

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine


On the seventh week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Seven weddings cancelled

Six Zooms a-crashing

Five TP rolls

Four sourdough loaves

Three new plants

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine


On the eighth week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Eight meals delivered

Seven weddings cancelled

Six Zooms a-crashing

Five TP rolls

Four sourdough loaves

Three new plants

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine


On the ninth week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Nine quaran-hobbies

Eight meals delivered

Seven weddings cancelled

Six Zooms a-crashing

Five TP rolls

Four sourdough loaves

Three new plants

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine


On the tenth week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Ten lonely weekends

Nine quaran-hobbies

Eight meals delivered

Seven weddings cancelled

Six Zooms a-crashing

Five TP rolls

Four sourdough loaves

Three new plants

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine


On the eleventh week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Eleven depression bouts

Ten lonely weekends

Nine quaran-hobbies

Eight meals delivered

Seven weddings cancelled

Six Zooms a-crashing

Five TP rolls

Four sourdough loaves

Three new plants

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine


On the twelfth week of COVID the cosmos sent to me

Twelve virtual games

Eleven depression bouts

Ten lonely weekends

Nine quaran-hobbies

Eight meals delivered

Seven weddings cancelled

Six Zooms a-crashing

Five TP rolls

Four sourdough loaves

Three new plants

Two foster dogs, and

A virus without a vaccine


(Prompt by me)

"Virus" by Daniel Lobo



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

15 facts about my dad

Just been thinking about some lighthearted facts I know about my dad lately. When he was young, he had a goldfish named Lysander He introduced me to Star Trek At Christmas, he would tear up at It's a Wonderful Life He used to send me articles from his Yahoo email account that he thought I'd like We used to play a game called "Nightmare" where he would lie down and we'd jump around (and sometimes on) him He would clip possible recipes for us to try out of newspapers and magazines We bought him a Paddington Bear to take on trips because we feared he'd be lonely and he always took it He had teddy bears for three different holidays We once had such a hilariously difficult time building a gingerbread house that when some frosting ended up on the counter, I plopped a gumdrop on it and we laughed until we cried He and his sister were born about 11 months apart We would try recipes from Top Chef He kept gifts I made him, even when they weren't great At Christmas, ...
Post a Comment
Read more

15 things you'll think about during your dad's latest hospital stay

This is meant to be a related piece to "15 things to do in your dad's hospital room," "15 Things You Find in Your Dad's Hospice Room," and "15 Things You Find When You Clean Out Your Dad’s Apartment" .  The Christmas lights at the nurse's station that should really have been switched for saccharine cupids by now What team decided to hang up a clearly labeled DRAFT safety sign Who comes up with the aliases they seem to use for trauma patients and how they decided on Redstone for your dad That his skin either looks like a bruised elephant or like sickeningly conflicting colors of thin paper mache Where you can possibly get food--you're shaky The patient in the ER somewhere with a lot of ammo, but no gun, or so they say Why the staff is being so happily loud and swearing...it feels discordant The used bandaid and gauze that are left on the floor of his ER room as he moves to his hospital room...the last proof he was there Having to do this a...
Post a Comment
Read more

15 things to do in your dad's hospital room

This is meant to be a related piece to  "15 Things You Find in Your Dad's Hospice Room" and "15 Things You Find When You Clean Out Your Dad’s Apartment" . Tell yourself you can panic later (you'll likely never find the time to, but it'll help) Wear a mask because he's immunocompromised (and besides, you've been out trying to live a life which means you could've caught something) Turn on the Olympics because he can't use a remote anymore and no one has helped him (besides, it's always on these days and he at least used to enjoy it) Practice your sanitized answers to his questions (he won't remember them, but no need to alarm him about in his life, your life, or the world for even a moment) Try not to be in the way of the nurses (you'll fail) Sit on the bed because there is no where else to (and realize your arm is resting against his urine jug) Worry that his bed should be alarmed when he gets up to go to the bathroom (he make...
Post a Comment
Read more