House confinement offers several positives. Luckily, I’ve got a little home office, and it’s a place I can go to sleep after my morning coffee.
On Monday, I had lots of time on my hands, so I took an online test to gauge my maturity level. It said I was “childish, obnoxious, and apathetic.” It said some other stuff, but I didn’t care.
I’ve also started cleaning out the attic. I found my old report cards from high school
, along with notes that teachers sent home.
I had forgotten that I once got in trouble for “releasing small rodents during a school assembly.” That accusation was unfair. My hamsters would never harm anybody.
One afternoon, I sat on our front porch to watch the world pass by in protective masks
. I waved to everyone. If somebody didn’t wave back, I blew my referee’s whistle. Some folks react poorly to loud noises.
I’ve never binge-watched so many old TV series, and I keep getting their plots confused. Last night I dreamed I was the sheriff in a Wild West town who drove a red convertible, possessed magical powers, and kept his talking horse at home.
And, currently, there are no live television sports events. This week I’ve seen two bowl games from the 1970s, a baseball playoff from the 1990s, and a track meet from the 1980s.
I recorded the 100-yard dash, then played it backwards. Now, that’s what you call a true rerun.
This column was previously published on this site on March 21.
Rix Quinn is a former magazine publisher who works as an independent biographer and broadcaster.