By Bill Tynan
I got a pleasantly surprising email from the First Selectman of my little Connecticut township last week. (Aside: My town is one of a number of Connecticut towns that have, instead of a mayor, a first, second and third selectman. The first selectman is in effect our mayor.) Lately, his email blasts, sent once a week to every town resident, have understandably been mostly in a grim-but-hopeful vein. His most recent message, however, included a welcome lighthearted contribution from a fellow resident. As the selectman declined to identify its author, I can’t give this contributor proper acknowledgment. But given that our area’s homeowners include a number of people in the arts and journalism, I sort of think it’s one of them who did this merry musing:
Half of us are going to come out of this quarantine as amazing cooks, the other half with a drinking problem.
I used to spin that toilet paper roll like I was on “Wheel of Fortune.” Now I turn it like I'm cracking a safe.
I need to practice social distancing with the refrigerator.
I still haven't decided where to go for Memorial Day— the living room or the bedroom.
Every few days, try your jeans on just to make sure they still fit. Pajamas will have you believe all is well in the kingdom.
I don't think anyone expected that when we changed the clocks, we'd go from Standard Time to the Twilight Zone.
This morning, I saw my neighbor talking to her cat again. It was obvious she thought her cat understood her. When I got back into the house, I told my dog, and we both laughed.
I'm so excited that it’s time again to take out the garbage. What should I wear?
Bill Tynan was the longtime head reporter of Time magazine’s Arts section.
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