Lee Geiger

I’m old enough to remember when your grocery list wasn’t “grab whatever is left.”

Lee Geiger

I’m sitting here at my desk banging computer keys on a six-year old laptop from my home office on Moraga. I’m diligently following the prescribed social-distancing protocol by being at least six-feet away from the next closest human being, who in this case would be my annoying New England-bred next-door neighbor whose more upset right now about Tom Brady leaving the Patriots than he is of Covid-19 dismantling his 401-k. But that doesn’t mean I’m completely in the clear; for all I know I could be surrounded by billions of creepy little coronavirus molecules waiting to pounce and make me the latest casualty of the Boomer Remover revolution.

These are some crazy times we live in. Yesterday I visited three grocery stores to buy a single quart of milk. I then stood in the self-checkout line that snaked to the back of the store, and the only way to practice social distancing would have been to lay down on the floor and crawl to the register. During my hour-long ordeal I heard a butcher behind the meat counter yell more than once to the braying masses that there was no more chicken or ground beef to be had. Not to worry, I thought, because there were still a few boxes of corn dogs left in the frozen food aisle.

No, seriously. How did we get here? A month ago, I walked into a bank and exchanged cash for some English pounds for a bucket list golf trip to Scotland I was taking with my buddies in May. Fast forward to today– I was doing cartwheels across my living room because our Scottish-based touring company is giving us not one but TWO years to reschedule our trip. What are they telling me that I should know?

The last time I washed my hands this much was when I actually did real work for a living. But the velocity with which our leaders have demanded we transform our day-to-day existence is making my head spin faster than Linda Blair’s noggin in “The Exorcist.” And man, who came up with the idea that the best way to combat this virus was to stock up on toilet paper? What are we going to hoard when the Big One finally arrives and cuts California in half? Deodorant?

The governmental powers-that-be in the San Francisco Bay Area ordered its seven-million inhabitants to stay home and “shelter in place.” Which is another way of saying don’t leave your teepee unless it’s to do something vital to sustain your ability to eat and breath on this planet. And even then, you have to maintain your social distance. I know, because this morning I was verbally assaulted by the CVS checkout girl for not looking down at the carpet and noticing the bands of tape placed EXACTLY six feet apart that magically appeared overnight. Oh, the shame.

The problem with sheltering in place, however, is that the only way I get 10,000 daily steps in is to make 1,000 daily trips to the refrigerator or pantry. I’m putting the over/under on my weight gain at 20 pounds before the next time I have to report to the office. But I am grateful for the empty nest. I can’t imagine living like this with kids that need to be schooled. If you didn’t think schoolteachers were worth their weight in gold, you do now. And I always have.

I don’t mean to make light of what is happening out there. This pandemic is real, and so are its consequences. I get it. I really do. And I worship the ground walked on by all the nurses and doctors dealing with the unprecedented realities of this crisis. Not to mention the people ringing the cash registers and stocking the shelves at the grocery stores. They didn’t sign up for this. And it’s a tragedy what’s happening to so many living on the lower rungs of the economic ladder who have bills to pay and mouths to feed. They don’t deserve to lose their jobs. They did nothing wrong.

My job allows me to work from practically anywhere, and I’ll admit the thought of getting out of Dodge to scratch a few itches crossed my mind. But then I made the mistake of checking out the twisted remains of what’s left in my retirement account, and quickly surmised that I should stay home and just be happy I have a place to shelter to.

Take my advice, folks. Stay calm and take a deep breath. This too shall pass.