More Sass!
The Pandemic Primer
“Wine glass half full, wine glass half empty...why not make it a full on whine experience.”—Rae Jean Beech
The Pandemic Primer provides additional chapters to the Care and Feeding of the Aging Human Male Species that womansplain how to be a Semi-Quarantine Queen while navigating the Post-Quarantine-Vaccine Scene with your Aging Human Male. (YIKES!) This newsletter, arriving in the middle of each month, provides a road map to ease your Pandemic Progress and your own sweet self—and provides something else to read for those times when you still feel like shutting yourself in the car in the garage with the radio blaring just for some precious alone time!
Here’s the latest….
and be sure to check out the archives below for more chuckles!
O Amazon! O Amazon!
Volume: Loud “PLEASE deliver soon!!”
Issue: Where are those Christmas presents?!
Date: December 23, 2021
“Primenesia. Noun. Prime-ne-sia. When you order so much Amazon Prime that you don’t know what is in the box.”—Anonymous
O Amazon! O Amazon!
’Twas Our Day of Prime Delivery when all through the house
All had begun “Where are the Christmas-presents?” grouse,
The stockings were empty—no stuffers there—
No candy, no tchotchkes—tree skirt all bare.
Young grands were nestled all snug in their beds
While dreams of video games danced in their heads.
And mama all worried about supply chain delays
And me, I hadn’t slept, worried for so many days.
We were glued to our iPads for news of our gifts
As the ships in San Fran floated in waves and drifts,
When near the front door there arose such a clatter
We sprang from our screens—was it Amazon patter?
I picked up my iphone as quick as a flash
To open the front door app (it cost lots of cash)
The door camera on the porch gave a fuzzy show
Of what was appearing on the road, moving slow.
When what to our wondering eyes did appear:
A truck with a “Prime arrow” downshifted a gear,
With a young driver popping out lively and quick,
And he masked up so fast to protect us from sick.
Deliver and deliver—that was his game.
More rapid than lasers up our walk he came,
Double-checking our address, then he froze—oh, no!
And he uttered and muttered in a voice so low,
“My bad—wrong house, I’m outta here!!”
As he sprang to his truck and got back into gear,
Our wishes and dreams were dashed left and right,
And then we exclaimed ere he drove out of sight,
“O, Amazon, we need you—can’t shop at 7-11!
O Amazon, you’re our Santa, our boxed consumer heaven!”
Happy Holidays!
Irene
Pandemic Primer Archive
