Chapter One Hundred-Ten: Ma’am and the Marie Kondo Tiger King…

Confused Husband watching Marie Kondo is like his version of watching porn. He has a ridiculous smile on his face and says things like: “Look at that!” “Wow!” He shakes his head in awe as she rolls clothes, places them in baskets that are labeled. He acts like she has just found the vaccine for Covid-19. Turning to me, he says: “Why can’t we do this?” He is obsessed with organizing and no clutter. I on the other hand like to collect things.

He heads into the kitchen stands in front of the open fridge freaking out like he just found a naked man inside. “Everything has its place!” he announces. Interesting coming from the man who has never actually put his dirty clothes in the hamper, usually they are dropped on the floor like a trail of bread crumbs.

He gets extremely excited throwing things out. He institutes his”Kondo” as he calls it while talking to the items. He speaks to the products like they are people going on a trip. To the ones he is chucking in the trash bin, he clucks and says sympathetically:” Sorry you were sitting there collecting mold.” ” I guess no one here likes artichoke hearts.” “I have no idea what you were, but well happy travels.” The fortunate ones who are granted a stay of execution are put back with fanfare and encouraging words like they have accomplished something extraordinary by not growing mold, or expiring. He takes his cleaning out the fridge position very seriously. I mean who does he think he is Oskar Schindler?

My take on the whole Kondo phenomenon is having a house devoid of stuff would not feel like a home to me. I enjoy my teapot, book, and tin collections. He would be happy with just a couch and no tchotchke’s what so ever. He forces me to watch Tiger King, and the entire time he is saying things like Marie Kondo needs to help Tiger King clean out his trailer! Look how messy those tiger cages are! He recites the Kondo method for the 6 rules of tidying. He is laser-focused on the clutter the Tiger King has. He mentions “Live a life that sparks joy!” Like a cult follower. It is RIDICULOUS!

During this bizarre exchange, he proclaims” I think Marie Kondo should come on Tiger King and help him organize the zoo! now that would make great television!” (I can see one of the tigers eating Marie Kondo for a snack.) I tell him that is another one of his ridiculous ideas! He accuses me of being jealous of Marie Kondo. He then suggests that we have Marie Kondo come to our home to “Kondo” it! I retort if that happens then Marie Kondo can “Kondo” our divorce. He is quiet after that.

We finish Tiger King and find out that he is in jail. Oh well, I guess that Marie Kondo won’t be headed over to the zoo anytime soon. Confused Husband then recites Marie Kondo’s philosophy to me:

“Keep only those things that speak to the heart, and discard items that no longer spark joy. Thank them for their service – then let them go.” I inform Confused Husband that he is getting really close with this nonsense to me putting him in that pile…

Chapter One Hundred-Nine: Ma’am and the Mad Beekeeper…

Navigating the grocery store experience nowadays is like partaking in an episode of the Hunger Games or a scene from Game of Thrones. We adorn our Covid attire. Masks and gloves. Confused Husband has added a hat to his pandemic fashion. He looks like an insane beekeeper. I am truthfully embarrassed by his outfit and keep a good social distance six feet away. Since my hands have been getting sweaty in the latex gloves, I have put on my long satin evening gloves. I feel like this is how Audrey Hepburn would dress during a pandemic. At the store, Confused Husband maneuvers the cart like he is driving in the Indy 500. No turn signal, no consideration for the other shoppers. I attempt to harness in his erratic cart driving but words through my mask sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher.

He like road signs disobeys the one-way arrows. Did I mention he learned to drive in Turkey? We lived in Turkey, I drove in Turkey and it’s every person for themselves! It’s like a scene from that crazy car race movie The Cannonball Run! I now dub him the Mad Beekeeper. He almost runs over a senior citizen in produce by the cauliflower which he quotes Mark Twain;” Cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education ” I tell him to put the college-educated cabbage in the cart and keep going.

He makes a sharp left almost taking out a pregnant woman because like a kid he follows the shiny object which in his case are bags of almonds. He tosses those into the cart and instructs me like Louis Gossett JR. to Richard Gere in An Officer And A Gentleman by hollering: “Mayonnaise !” as he zooms to the condiment aisle. The Mad Beekeeper seems to be in some sort of race with himself.

In his clueless wake are frustrated shoppers. Thank goodness we are all in masks like the witness protection program hiding in plain sight. He searches for brownie mix and has no regard for social distancing. He is in his own zone. I roll my eyes to blend in with the other shoppers in the hope of covering up the fact that I even know him. Forget about being married and having children with him! Nope, I am like Rose from Titanic floating on the door and he is Jack bopping in the cold ocean. It is self-preservation at its finest.

When no one is looking I throw things in the cart and then socially distance myself from him. It is as if Mr. Magoo has been left alone in Giant. I watch as he takes corners on two wheels of the shopping cart, at a speed that I wasn’t aware shopping carts could go. he is a mad beekeeper on a mission and no one can stop him!

He bellows through his mask that we need eggs. Beekeeper hat askew on his head, he looks insane and people nervously glance around to see who he is speaking to. I become extremely interested in reading the ingredients on a can of soup.

He then heads to aisle five and informs its unfortunate occupants that it’s taco night but because of the CEO of Goya’s allegiance to the Cheeto in chief, there will be no cans of black beans in his cart! No Goya products PERIOD! a man in a dumb-looking homemade mask accuses him of being racist. Because of the masks, it is hard to understand what they are saying. I scuttle away and wait in the frozen food section as I am having a massive hot flash. My once lovely satin gloves are now stained and drenched in sweat. This would NEVER happen to Audrey! The pearls I added as a last-minute touch are stuck to my skin because of the sweat. They have made unattractive indentations on my skin. Instead of Audrey, I now look like a menopausal Wilma Flintstone. It is tragic!

The Mad Beekeeper approaches after holding court in front of the taco shells. He says he explained to the guy Phil who called him a racist about the boycott of Goya. Pleased with himself he says he stopped several customers from buying Goya products. But then Skippy the stock boy told him to keep moving and he had to march on from his protest. He is chuffed with himself. I just want to buy groceries not star in a reenactment of Norma Rae with the Mad Beekeeper on aisle five.

Ironically considering his present ensemble he is perusing the honey and announces that he is thinking about going into beekeeping. It would be cheaper to “capture some bees and force them to make honey then paying eight bucks for a little jar.” he states. I explain that I don’t think you just capture bees and force them like indentured servants to make honey. He adjusts his ridiculous hat and sighing tosses a jar of honey into the cart. There are some muffled things said like: ” Crush all his dreams, blah, blah, blah”.

We make a detour down the dairy aisle where he runs into his former arch-nemesis Phil who is now his co-protestor in arms. Phil is telling a woman who is merely trying to buy milk about the protest in aisle five in regards to Goya products. She says she saw something on the news but was only buying milk and since they are not made by Goya she really needs to get going. Too late! between Phil and the Mad Beekeeper, they have cornered her and are dragging her into their aisle five protest. She pleadingly looks at me and I give her a sympathetic look. (She would be giving me one if she knew I was married to one of her kidnappers.)

There is a disturbance in aisle five. A man with an electric scooter is filling his basket with Goya products. He said someone on Fox News told him to do so.

Here we go!

The Mad Beekeeper and Phil verbally assault the schmuck on the electric scooter! They tell him in purchasing these items he is bankrolling the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue diatribe of hate. Scooter Man says he just wants beans.

A lady in what looks like a hazmat suit chimes in and tells Scooter Man that he is “contributing to hate and division in our country with his grocery purchases. And why the fuck is he listening to a nincompoop on Fox News in the first place? or even watching that channel?” she asks. A war of words ensues. I am desperately attempting to get the Mad Beekeeper’s attention even though he is the catalyst for the uproar on aisle five, I need to get home and take a cold shower. He is having his Norma Rae moment and there is no stopping him!

I am pretty sure that Scooter Man obnoxiously said something like “black beans matter.” All hell breaks loose. It is hard to decipher what was said because of the swathe of masks making the words jumbled. It is a circus of ridiculousness! Skippy the stock boy tries to break it up, but it is definitely above his paygrade. Out of the chaos emerges the Mad Beekeeper. He looks like he alone has knocked down the Berlin Wall. Taking control of the cart he moves along like a man with a purpose. I look back and see that an angry mob has surrounded Scooter Man. I feel like I am watching the infamous scene from Shirley Jackson’s book The Lottery.

We head to the checkout and announced over the store’s PA: “Clean up on aisle five…”

Chapter One Hundred-Eight: Ma’am and Next Door…

I am obsessed with the website Next Door. For those of you unfamiliar it’s a place to connect with neighbors I call it the Mrs. Kravitz of today.. You can talk about comings and goings in your neighborhood, sell things, post things, complain, network, you name it. I find it hysterical! For instance: Dan and Bunny have posted that they both work from home. Apparently, Dan is writing the next great American novel. He shares that his most creative writing time is between 10:00 am- 1:00 pm. ( Yup three hours) He is complaining about the use of leaf blowers, car horns, garbage trucks, to name a few, are causing immense noise pollution and because of this, he cannot work. He laments that he must take his laptop and walk over to Starbucks to work(seriously). Here’s the thing, we LIVE in the city! There is NOISE! Bunny interjects that she is a life coach and whilst she is ” life coaching”, the obnoxious invasive noises in the background disturb the atmosphere for her and her clients. My suggestion? Close your windows put on your central air and problem solved! I also am wondering just how good a life coach this Bunny is that she has to go on Next Door to help her solve her current dilemma? Of course, I don’t post this, I am merely a voyeur to this stew of nonsense.

A guy named Hal retorts pretty much what I was thinking, and is lambasted like crazy from some other work at homers named Gerry, Phan, Karl, Sam, Tucker, Lynn, and Fay. They are like a gang obliterating poor Hal. They have an abusive thread running like Niagra Falls. Hal is the schmuck in the barrel going over the falls. Skip and Jen come to Hal’s defense saying that Hal was merely offering a remedy for the situation. Hal who I assume is sweating like a nun in a cucumber patch at this point, posts a ‘Thank’ with a smiling emoji to his defenders.

Someone named Pru gets on this verbal train of abuse and points out that Hal must not work from home, although she doesn’t either but can see the side of the homers. She kisses up to them, and then goes on a diatribe of how much she respects people who work from home! The accolades she praises upon them is nauseating! Pru acts like they are home finding a cure for Covid in their at-home labs! Pru also throws in that the sirens from the fire trucks should have set times when they can blow their sirens because they are waking her up with their ridiculous middle of the night siren blasts.

She gets about 12 thumbs up emojis from this LUDICROUS statement. Someone named Holly sarcastically points out that so Pru can sleep, the firehouse should schedule their fires around her sleeping pattern.

Hal who seems to have rallied back, responds by stating how crazy Pru sounds. The DC Nine as I now label them go after Hal like a scene from Les Mis. Phan states that calling someone CRAZY is racist and wrong. Gerry seconds that and then someone named Connie says it’s not racist just wrong and she complains about the people walking at night in front of her house from the bars, are drunk, loud and sometimes peeing into her flower pots. Tucker from the DC Nine gang chimes in that at least she has flower pots as his were stolen off his stoop. Mitch asks Tucker if he has filed a police report?

A know it all named Dez states these are first world problems people! Then dares to point out that he is paying his housekeeper and nanny regularly even though they are not there working because of Covid and suggests everyone should do the same. ((Says the man who ironically claimed the others were having first-world issues!). Muffy adds that she is also paying her pool man and gardener as well. Then she sits back and is praised by the other one percent online like she is Mother Teresa.

A newcomer named Doug who just wants to sell his couch inadvertently steps into this minefield thread. He posts several pictures of this brown monstrosity of a couch followed by a description worthy of an NYT bio. He is a virtual Willy Loman! Fay from the DC Nine first informs Doug that his couch is an abomination to furniture and interior decorator’s as she is one and he should donate it to a homeless shelter and do it as a tax write off because no one in their right mind would buy that! Phil chimes in why is it good enough for a homeless shelter but not for anyone else?

Doug thanks Phil and points out that his couch is extremely comfortable and doubles as a bed. ( I have got to give Doug credit for pushing this couch!) Phil then responds that he saw someone whose name was either Brett or Brent on the website who was looking for a couch. Doug thanks Phil and then the gang goes after Doug for being so selfish for trying to sell his couch and not donate it. Doug replies that he needs the cash from the couch for a plane ticket to go see his dad. He is a student.

The ever-helpful Phil asks why his dad doesn’t pay for Doug’s plane ticket, and Doug shares that his dad is not financially able. Phil tells Doug to start a Go Fund Me for his airplane money because he points out that Doug will need a couch to sit on when he returns. The DC Nine on their self-righteous soapbox says you cannot start a go fund me on Next Door! Dan and Bunny claim that they know someone who was fined for doing that!

Karl from the gang says he is going to Google the rules of Next Door because he is a retired attorney. (Umm.. an attorney who is Googling to get his information?) I refrain from typing my cornucopia of questions for this supposed attorney. No worries! Brave Hal does this for me. He questions Karl’s professionalism in this matter. Uh oh, the gang goes after Hal like flies on shit.

Another person named Boston Ben comments on how this is all so high school and bully pulpit behavior. Seconds later an entourage of assaults are thrown at Boston Ben by the Gang of Nine. There are threats of”What do you know Mr. Bean Town?” “Want to get thrown off this ship like the tea in your harbor?!” Ben goes mute.

Entering into this shit show is someone named Flynn. He shares that his father in law is visiting from Pakistan and was out walking the other day. He was in the alleyway behind their house and according to Flynn, his father in law couldn’t believe all of the wasted food people were throwing out! He was seen rummaging through trash cans, taking pictures and someone called the police. Now he has to appear in court. Karl the questionable attorney asks the most ridiculous questions such as: ” Was he going to eat the food?” “Was he on their property or in the actual alleyway?” “Does he look homeless?”

Flynn goes off on Karl as expected and calls Karl a bigot. Flynn said that his father in law was stating his position to show the waste that he witnesses when people are starving. Flynn also points out that his father in law is a retired Professor of economics and a huge advocate for helping the underprivileged. Fay from the gang asks if Flynn’s dad has been properly vetted by Homeland Security? Hence causing a grenade to be tossed into this whole thread. It is like watching a train wreck and you cannot turn away.

There is name-calling, lawsuits threatened, politics brought in, just one big cluster! I am a witness to the absurd! The thread is vicious and long! Everyone pipes in. A woman named Beth whose dog was missing just the other day and posted this sweet, tearful message when her dog Otis was found, now has the mouth of a sailor. Karl the dubious attorney posts his contact info for potential lawsuits. Bunny the lifestyle coach attempts to use her skills to calm everyone down. Doug during all of this mayhem, asks Phil if he could help him start a Go Fund Me page if his couch doesn’t sell by five today. Mitch again asks if Tucker has filed a police report on those stolen flower pots? Pru asks if anyone else is willing to march with her to the firehouse and confront the firemen about their inconsiderate middle of the night siren blasts?

This circus continues. I begin to wonder if this is why the people who work from home can’t get any work done? It is like falling down a rabbit hole that you can’t get out of. I see this thread as becoming longer than War and Peace. Tonight I will read this instead of my book. I need to know the ending! I feel like I am reading a bad Tele Novella! But these burning questions linger:

Can Doug sell his couch and get his plane ticket home?

Will Pru march on the firehouse?

Will Karl get any clients?

Did Tucker file a police report for the stolen flower pots?

Can Fay be kicked off Next Door for being a racist?

How can Bunny and Dan ever find solace working from home?

Chapter One Hundred-Seven: Ma’am’s musings…

I have had a lot of musings lately whilst in quarantine. My thoughts and questions are perhaps quirky and maybe not deep, they are however mine.

What happens if you cut the ‘Do not remove tag’ off of the mattress? Is there a group of Mattress Police that will show up at your door like the Mattress Swat team and arrest you? Swarming and storming into your bedroom? Will you be photographed, fingerprinted, and held in a cell only to become Large Marge’s bitch? Will your front door have a giant M on it like the Scarlett letter exposing your shame to all?

For fucks sake! Where are all of the missing socks? Do the others you have kept in hopes of finding it’s missing partner miss them? Do they have secret support groups while waiting in your clothes basket? Do they hold their breath every time you come into the laundry room wondering if it’s their last day? Is it referred to as Sockies Choice?

Also, what idiot coined the phrase “Dust Bunnies?” real bunnies are cute, the ones under your bed are not! They don’t even look like bunnies! They should be called “Dust Blobbies.”

Why are there canned wax beans? Who the hell eats them?!! Is there wax on them? Where do they get the wax?

Why isn’t cheese declared a national treasure?

How come a jar of peanut butter doesn’t come with its own giant spoon?

What is the purpose of parsley on your plate? How about a nice chocolate mint-like on your pillow in a fancy hotel? How is parsley even in the accouterments category?

Are we required to ban glue because of horses? Who is Elmer? and is he a horse murderer?

What would we do without Netflix? Heaven forbid we have to sit through an actual commercial! Speaking of commercials does anyone else want to beat up Flo?

Shouldn’t wine come in gallon jugs like milk? So easy to pour. No work to open.

Who created the Swiffer? They in my opinion should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

Who are these people making money off of blogging? Certainly not me!

Why do we have to pay for some service to deliver pizza that costs more than the pizza? Whatever happened to the serial killer looking pizza delivery guy that drove a creepy battered car and you tipped him well for A) bringing your pizza while still hot, and B) to assure yourself that you won’t be his next victim.

Why do we say have a nice day? Who the hell are we to demand someone have a nice day?

How come Starbucks seems to have a secret drink menu, yet it’s so top secret I have never met anyone that can find it?

Who are these people popping up in my email telling me I have crepe skin, brown spots, and skin tags. Have they seen me naked?

Why is my dog sliding his ass across my carpet?

Can’t I just eat a hotdog and NOT be aware of how they are made?

Am I high maintenance because I like central air and ice cubes?

Has anyone actually grown watermelon in their stomach after ingesting seeds?

I have never met a person, who had serious cramps or sunk to the bottom of a pool after eating a big lunch and then swimming.

Do greeters in stores actually care? Are they happy people or full of rage?

Do celebrities really think that they are” just like us” and ” we are in this together?” Because the view from my couch looks completely different from theirs. Are telethons mainly rich people’s guilt that they are doing something?

If Ferris Bueller ran for president I would SO vote for him.

Can a veterinarian really do surgery on a human-like in those mob shows?

Why are ketchup and Mayonnaise combined called Russian dressing? Isn’t it the same as French or Thousand Island dressing?

Why are Canadians so nice?!

How come when ordering in a Mexican restaurant people order in these RIDICULOUS accents?!!!

Why does Ben & Jerry’s only make pints?!!!!

Is it really true that an apple a day keeps the doctor away?

I think that frozen margarita’s should be declared a national beverage.

Can you really drive a car cross country on McDonald’s grease? If so, why aren’t people doing it?

Is it truly possible to learn a foreign language after thirty?

Who actually liked high school?

Were all gym teachers mean and creepy?

Why do we always have to be our best? What’s wrong with being mediocre?

Can 2020 just be over?

Who cares that today is the Fourth Of July? We are in the middle of an apocalypse!

Whatever happened to the couple from the Tasters Choice ad? They sucked us in with their soap opera style vignettes and then made us vote if the lady should wind up with the handsome neighbor Michael who introduced her to Tasters Choice or her ex-husband. Michael won the vote and then the ad never gave us closure. It was a cliff hanger commercial and because of my outrage, I stopped drinking their coffee.

How much wood does a woodchuck chuck? Is it a cousin of the beaver? What exactly is chucking?

Do Gap employees go for special folding training?

If I wrote those little fortunes to stick in fortune cookies, I would write things like: you are a loser, you have bad breath, you are unlucky, tonight you will die.

Why is the Pillsbury Dough Boy naked? Does he have white privilege?

Was Kermit physically abused by Miss Piggy?

Why did they always show the Brady’s mowing their astroturf lawn?

Was Alice an indentured servant trying to escape from the Brady’s, or a spy, and Sam the butcher was her handler?

Why do people with dogs talk to them in baby voices?

These are a few of my quarantine musings. Albeit I have more but am too exhausted to list them…