DAZE WORK: Six weeks and there’s nothing new or normal about it

Thus begins my sixth week of self-isolation, quarantine, social distancing and cabin fever …

First my daughters grounded me, then my employer ordered me to work from home, then the governor commanded we all stay home.

At this point it seems like home detention without the ankle bracelet.

So I’ve been hunkered down on Highwood in the middle of the block, in the middle of a comfy neighborhood.

Alone again … naturally, getting only an occasional visit from Assistant Editor Jared, which usually means more work, or kind friend Cathy who shares her goodwill, homemade chocolate chip cookies and extra ice cubes when she drops by to set out my trash and recycling cans.

But for the most part, when not working on the computer, I’m stuck in my recliner, talking back to the TV and wondering when I became my grandfather.

Why couldn’t I have been quarantined with Robert Mondavi? Imagine the stories. Imagine the wine. Imagine the stories after the wine.

Or Jennifer Aniston. Imagine … well, just imagine.

Instead I’ve been stuck in self-isolation, where thoughts of a grocery run to Kroger or prescription trip to Walmart or iced tea trek to the McDonald’s drive-through excite me. Heck, I’ve even come to welcome jaunts to City Hall for Council or Board of Works meetings. Somebody better check my temperature.

Word is Shakespeare wrote “King Lear” while quarantined during the Black Plague.

So what have I done?

Went online and completed my Census information. Literally took me five minutes tops.

Spent $19.95 ordering a MicroTouch Solo razor online to clean up the neck beard I’ve cultivated during all this.

Went wild and ordered an Ancestry.com test, investing $100 in hoping to learn my ancestry by spitting into a tube, shaking it up and mailing it back. Still awaiting the results of my saliva test, which might be checking me for the virus (or German measles) as well.

Made myself an 11-pound spiral ham for Easter, so I’ll still be eating Easter ham for Christmas.

Developed a need for naps like never before. Seems the later I sleep, the more I need to nap later.

Almost bit on the My Pillow commercials until I saw that goofy inventor wind up on stage on behalf of the White House, lecturing us on the new normal in the virus world.

And then came Trumpy Bear. I laughed out loud, thinking it was a commercial spoof. But no, for four payments of $19.95 I could order a teddy bear with a Trump combover. I must be delirious. Check my pulse.

The whole situation has left me with more questions than answers.

How long have I worn these sweatpants?

Did I shower today? Yesterday? This week?

When’s the last time I shaved?

Whose half-eaten sandwich is this?

Where did all those dishes in the sink come from?

Does anyone think these Liberty Mutual commercials are funny?

You know, I never even got dressed Saturday. Spent the whole day in a Dixie Chopper T-shirt and boxers.

Meanwhile, every sneeze, every wheeze and every throbbing of my knees leaves me worrying about the next symptom.

So welcome to my new normal. Please keep your distance.