Okay, I’m in my house bored, unshaven, in need of a haircut, wearing my blue and white striped pajamas and living with a snivel that won’t go away.
Living in my tick-tock world.
Tick—Good news my taste buds are on overdrive.
Tock—I’m eating too much.
Tick–Good news my pulp free orange juice is labeled in Hebrew, “Kosher for Pesach” the label carries the circled “U” and a “P.” Who says, “America ain’t a great country.”
Tock—Oy gevalt! A Seder without guests.
Tick—Aliz nat gut, “There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow,…” and I’m living in it.
Tock— I remember that as a teenager wishing to appear in episodes of the “Twilight Zone or “Outer Limits.”
Tick—But Rod Serling taught me to be careful for what I wished.
Tick—But I knew my dreams would never happen.
Tock—Never in my wildest fantasies would I enter the middle ground between light and shadow. Well, maybe when I died.
But it happened.
My Orwellian middle ground black nightmare happened.
My dystopian tale, where Big Brother, quarantines the whole nation during a destructive pandemic happened.
I watched as Big Brother’s brown shirted minions try to slow the spread of the contagion by plastering notices on light posts, telephone poles and abandoned buildings.
Health Warning and Quarantine Order
Notice To All Citizens
“As of today’s date, it is imperative that you must stay-in-shelter to stop the spread of this novel virus.
You may only leave your home to get critical supplies or for medical attention.
If you disobey this order you shall be fined and/or imprisoned.
Police shall be stationed on your streets.
If you disobey their orders you shall be shot.”
Big Brother and the Ministry of Truth
Now I’m prisoner housed in tedium.
A prisoner suffering the agonies of boredom:
Not knowing which day of the week it is;
Wondering if blue is the color of boredom;
Not knowing the length of my sentence;
Having difficulty concentrating;
Seeking stimulation to avoid a deep state of depression.
A prisoner with and almost infinite appetite for distractions who engages in watching Tik Toc for hours on my iPhone—as time melds my mind into a Dali pocket watch.
And every morning after I lay tefillin, I add three prayers:
“Please G-d give me the patience to be able to wait for a definitive answer as to when my life in this fakakta quarantine will end and I will regain my freedom.”
“Please G-d don’t let me drown in this pit of man’s fears under a black sea of destructive boredom.”
“Please G-d help me climb out of this torturous dark blue sea of boredom so I can again taste the joys of freedom.
I awake on the couch, with a headache, feverish and shvitzing while a nightmarish meme pounds its beat on top of my headache:
“Okay I’m bored in the house and I’m in the house bored.”