I’ve spent a lot of hours wishing for peace and quiet and have always been thrilled when the last person left the bar at night. Not being moved around, having my stash picked through, or my ears pierced from loud voices and laughter. The temporary solitude until the following evening was priceless. I savored the quiet. But now…..no one comes. It’s too quiet… every day and every night. Once in a while C. Grace or Cat(rina) or the one who fixes things, and has my name – Bob- come in. And they all talk about the same topic…someone name Corona, who, from the name, must be royal, and powerful and deadly. Apparently she has acquired an international reach and is making an example to her human subjects that she has no tolerance for their current lifestyles. A new protocol has obviously been put into effect where places like mine aren’t allowed to operate. And people in general have to stay home.
If someone had posed the possibility of no partying, no congregating, no bustling Saturday night streets before the middle of last month, I would have been elated. Raised my hand in favor. Maybe popped a bottle and licked the cork. But since this Royal Rona has been on her rampage, it is too much. I actually miss the humans…even the female ones holding hands as they weave to the bathroom with their sometimes shrill voices. Maybe if everyone is obedient, stays put and follows her rules, Rona will relax and take herself on holiday.
I surprise even myself, but I’m putting prayers out there that the bar can re-open soon, and the music can play and the humans can come and I can complain about their endearing, ridiculous machinations.