(Originally published on 23 April 2020)
I understand the basic elements of a thing called cabin fever.
And after seven weeks sitting in my basement office clothed from the waist up in sweatshirts and other heat retaining apparel and from the waist down in mostly nonbinding modesty-enhanced drapings finished off by a pair of Red Wing Steel-Toe Mining Boots (model 2406 for those interested) worn sockless and unlaced yet firmly planted on the floor, I am a professional at being a shut-in.
Seems that some others are not as professional in these matters of our new reality as I am.
I watched a video of a shutdown protester who was totally committed to free-ranging the American public back into every park, tattoo parlor, beauty salon, Big Lots store and Applebee’s restaurant in order to break the cabin fever.
This protester was screaming at the top of her lungs- and, behind the safety of her automobile window glass just barely cracked- something to the effect of “You’ve had six weeks! You’ve had six weeks!”.
Perhaps the protester was angry at the thought of the coronavirus puzzle not being solved in some six week time frame.
Did anyone ever promise that?
Or, is this person simply incapable of enduring the necessary privations that come with a global pandemic?
Understanding the basic elements of a thing called cabin fever is more time-based than I had imagined.