During a Pandemic, a Lovely Purge
Intent on a purge for a year or so, the global spread of Covid19 gives me the perfect opportunity to begin. I must confess I have, so far, rather enjoyed self-quarantine. I get to binge TV, write when inspired, read books near a crackling fire — riding out the Apocalypse with my soulmate, best friend, and loving wife, Melanie, while ingesting gallons of Jose Cuervo and butter pecan ice cream. For a depressed introvert like me, what’s not to love?
The way I see it — purging will only make it better.
Not because downsizing sparks joy — it’s difficult to imagine discarding kitchen items during a global pandemic will do that for me. It’s more the promise of the purge that inspires me — getting rid of shit will make things better, cleaner, in the end.
Melanie and I share and understanding and purpose.
We are at war, my wife and I, on a righteous crusade against clutter, germs, and chaos. Armed with an arsenal of Covid-killing disinfectants, I begin with a toast of my Corona Light, making note of the irony while I chug it down. May the purge be with you, I say to Melanie. After the clinking glass, we abandon ourselves to OCD, the bright orange flow of neurons firing in goose-stepping military salute.
For the record, here’s some of the useless shit we got rid of —
A stained cotton dish towel with a 1981 calendar
43 miniature yellow corn cob holders
18 statues of cardinals from a crazy great aunt
1 red toaster with only one burner
13 warped spatulas
2 penis-shaped squash
9 shot glasses, each tossed after a good-bye toast.
Love and purging in a time of the Corona Virus.
As Melanie tempers some of my choices for sentimental and logistical reasons, I move forward, bug-eyed in my quest — the tidy, antiseptic, cleverly spaced, visually pleasing, sparkling illusion of control.
Just before midnight, our kitchen purge complete, I revel in lines, order, and beauty. With comic pride I look at Melanie and do a terrible impression of George W. Bush standing on the the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln —
Misssion accomplished.
Covid19 be damned, Melanie unexpectedly adds.
We both laugh because sometimes it’s the only thing you can really do.
Exhausted but content, my wife and I fall asleep, spooning as moonlit shadows dance on us through bedroom windows in the middle of a global pandemic.
