Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ve been doing all my personal business online for years anyway, so now I’m burning all my mail, just in case it’s contaminated. It’s not really a big deal, except for the catalogs (good thing Sears stopped sending their whopper out in 1993), then it starts getting a little smokey.

And now, for the first time in thirty years, I cracked open some eggs today. They were just as I remembered them, but not at all like they are when someone at the diner brings them to my table, fully executed. And I did it in one try. (In anticipation of this day, I’ve been working out – especially wrist exercises.) Tomorrow, I’m going to do it again and, if all goes well, move to step two, scrambling them. The next day I might get adventuresome and add cheese, if I’m feeling particularly empowered. Then at some point, I’ll actually eat them. But I haven’t investigated that part online yet and I don’t want to get it wrong.

After that, the next logical step, given the increasingly frightening thought of going to the grocery, will be to start a chicken farm on my balcony (as soon as I get the nerve to go out on it) – two hens should be enough. Research tells me that I can get 5-7 years of laying from each, which should get me well past the end of any further extensions of the shelter-in-place order (I hope).