- Excessive tweeting.
- Excessive retweeting.
- Excessive tweeting and retweeting about the coronavirus.
- Even without any symptoms, worrying that you might have the coronavirus.
- Obsessive back and forth tweets with those who think they also might have the coronavirus.
- Compare symptoms. Why, yes, you do feel a little flushed!
- Wonder if cats can get the coronavirus. Worry that your cat, who just sneezed, while licking your face, has the coronavirus!
- Become obsessed that he will die.
- Worry if having a coronavirus-infested dead cat in your house could result in your death. Plan what to do with his body. If you leave his fluffy tail sticking out, could he fit in a one-gallon Ziploc? Measure him in readiness.
- Become obsessed that you will die. Consider writing your obituary.
- Wonder how to maintain social distancing from your exceedingly affectionate cat. Wonder if it is too late.
- Read that the virus survives longer on smooth surfaces than porous materials. Determine that your cat’s fur is a porous material. However, as his nose and paw pads seem relatively smooth, panic-order nose and paw wipes.
- Read that the likelihood of your cat getting the coronavirus and giving it to you is slim. Choose not to believe this.
- Worry that since you now have the coronavirus, you will use more toilet paper. You only have two rolls left! Ration yourself to TWO sheets at each “sitting.” Your cat shreds one of the rolls. Ration yourself to ONE sheet at each “sitting.”
- Stop exercising. Exercise only increases your bathroom visits.
- FaceTime your friends about your need for toilet paper. Tell them you have the coronavirus AND COULD DIE! Make your bottom lip tremble, and turn on the waterworks. COUGH LOUDLY! A friend offers you ONE roll for $200, another promises TWO rolls, on the condition you sleep with them. Decline both offers.
- At your next bathroom visit, accidentally use THREE sheets of toilet paper.
- Decide to fast. After two days, weak with hunger, give up.
- Check your supplies. Noting your stockpile of canned vegetarian chili and beans, and high-fiber granola bars, start to panic.
- Don a surgical mask and rubber gloves. Visit the supermarket. Head to the “limit one per customer” toilet paper aisle. Zilch! An employee tells you some ninety-year-old-looking man rushed in during “senior time” and cleared the shelves. He kept baring his teeth, waving his cane around, and ramming people with his shopping cart. He was unstoppable! Conclude it’s not just the young, in these dire times, who can be selfish.
- Think about steak. How steak’s like an over-loaded, smelly old truck, rotting and chugging its way down a narrow country road that is your gut. Food behind might honk at it, but nothing can pass it. Three days later, it reaches its destination. Whereas canned vegetarian chili and beans, and those high-fiber granola bars – being the equivalent of sports cars – simply zip right through.
- Wander by the meat counter, seeing an abundance of steak. Eureka! YOU COULD SAVE THREE DAYS’ WORTH OF TOILET PAPER! The butcher smiles. “How can I help you?”
- Suddenly remember you are a vegan! Clench your fists. Have spasms of guilt. Open your mouth, and scream silently at the ceiling. F… U… C… K! Then smile back at the butcher, aware your prefrontal cortex appears to have lost all reason and has quite possibly, irreparably, declined. “I’ll have one pack of toilet paper, please.”
- Thinking you’re joking, the butcher laughs.
- Pass by the cheese section. Spy the ninety-year-old man, cart overflowing with his telltale booty. While he’s occupied, plundering cheese, loot a pack of his toilet paper!
- Fondle it lovingly; give it a squeeze. Gleefully announce to the cashier while purchasing, “LOOK, I HAVE TOILET PAPER!”
- Go home and hug your cat. Do a happy dance.
- Think about the Spanish Flu of 1918, SARS 2003, swine flu 2009, MERS 2012 and now COVID-19. Zoonotic diseases from densely packed, highly stressed animals, in unsanitary conditions, due to man’s insatiable demand for meat.
- Fire off a tweet: “EAT LESS MEAT, MOTHERFUCKERS!”
- Suspecting you’re some animal rights terrorist, PIGGY’S PLUMP SAUSAGES unfollows you. As does your mom – although, not before tweeting, “You were always a picky eater with a foul mouth!”
- Heat up some vegetarian chili and beans. Eat a high-fiber granola bar. Go to the bathroom. Find that what you thought was toilet paper was mislabeled, and you’ve actually purchased paper towels!
- FaceTime your friends – AGAIN!!! Remind them you have the coronavirus. THEIR PRICE HAS GONE UP! A friend offers you ONE roll for $400; another promises TWO, on the condition you sleep with them AND give them your cat! Decline both offers.
- Inspired by your cat’s toilet paper shredding technique, begin cutting toilet paper on your remaining roll into FOUR two-inch-squares. Determine to ration yourself to ONE two-inch-square at each “sitting.”
