Had some time on my hands to make observations about the coronavirus crisis:
My grandsons are only 8 and 6 but, thanks to my daughter’s home-schooling, they’re starting high school in the fall.
We wipe doorknobs like we’re trying to clean up the crime scene before the cops come.
It’s been business as usual for my sons and son-in-law. They work in three industries that will never shut down — garbage, construction and TSA.
Are temporary restraining orders a normal part of social distancing? A friend wants to know.
I used to hate when my wife cleaned the bathroom with bleach, the fumes are asphyxiating. Now it’s bleach baby bleach!
I never dreamed it would be so difficult to get a beer in Forest Park.
Standing in checkout lines is like playing “Mother May I?” We wait for the shopper in front of us to move up, before daring to take a step.
If you want an end-of-the-world experience, visit Brookfield Zoo. You’ll see a handful of hardy souls wandering the landscape but you won’t see any animals. They are maintaining social distance by hiding indoors.
The detective business must be an essential service because my clients are swamping me with assignments. Thank God for interns!
I’m avoiding TV coverage of the crisis, unless I see that little Italian doctor behind the podium. I want Dr. Fauci to be my family doctor.
If this quarantine continues much longer, I’m going to break out the keyboard and serenade my wife. She bought a pair of noise-canceling headphones just in case.
Don’t care if I’ve memorized the dialogue and know the plot by heart; old movies are my comfort food.
My neighbor told me, “Only boring people get bored.” I think she’s got something there.
I never knew that being a loser with no friends could have such an upside.
My own social life hasn’t suffered much. Visits to Ed’s Way continue to be the highlight.
Of the Seven Dwarfs, I most identify with Sleepy, because of my three daily naps. My wife would say I’m more like Grumpy, but it sure beats being Sneezy.
I’m trying out all kinds of new recipes, including “Shameful Eggs.” The recipe calls for scolding free-range eggs for feeling superior to the regular ones.
I hear a certain Mexican beer company is considering a name change.
I would never start a false rumor, but I hear sales of The Ghost of Cleopatra are skyrocketing. This makes sense if you consider I earned over $18 in royalties last year.
I read that a couple survived being quarantined on a cruise ship, by remaining in separate parts of the stateroom. We are doing something similar. I get the bedroom, while my wife is confined to the front porch.
I finally have the patience to appreciate silent movies and that three-hour opera on WTTW just flew by.
The sports networks are running re-runs of baseball games. How about a re-run of Michael Jordan’s entire career? I would love to watch it a second time.
Snake oil cures for the virus are spreading faster than the disease itself.
I answer every email that promises coronavirus cures or compensation, but I miss giving my banking information to Nigerian princes.
We have an unwritten rule in our household: no TV before 5 p.m. These days, we start fighting for the remote around 4:30.
They should open drive-thru windows for grandparents. We could see our grandkids through the glass and pick up free food.
I thought my hands were clean until my brother reminded me that “Happy Birthday” has four verses.
John Rice is a columnist/private detective, who has seen his business and family thrive in Forest Park. He thoroughly enjoys life in the village and still gets a thrill smelling Red Hots, watching softball and strolling through cemeteries. Jrice1038@aol.com