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Abstract

eing “conservative” in their estimates, right? No one expects people to be quarantined for the next two years…right?</p><p id="1be0">IF this should happen, I expect the shit will hit the fan in ways even Hollywood can’t imagine.</p><p id="38b9">People will get ugly. There’ll be no more “pulling together.” No more Kumbaya. Especially if food becomes a premium. Oh, man. We will be in deep doo-doo, then.</p><p id="df38">Gun sales have already spiked, as people prepare for the day they’ll have to protect themselves and their families against potential marauders foraging for sustenance.</p><p id="6c4f">God forbid that should happen. Actually, I know nothing about “God” other than he/she doesn’t seem to be paying attention. We fucked up big time and we’re paying the price. Our propensity for conspicuous consumption of “stuff,” combined with our disrespect for the creatures who share this earth with us <i>and</i> our casual denigration of the earth itself, has done us in.</p><figure id="dc66"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*O48f77zpIUsFsiQV5SIkGg.jpeg"><figcaption>Take my hand. It’s clean. Source: Free-Images.Com</figcaption></figure><p id="e6da">As we fray, evermore at our edges, I believe this community needs each other more than ever. We can use our words to soothe and uplift, to inspire and encourage, to bolster and console and to literally, help forge an insular world all our own.</p><p id="95a3">A world where we can extend a virtual hand to those of us who need it. And <i>we will need it.</i></p><p id="7489">So know that I am here for you as I believe you are for me. Let’s take a collective deep breath and keep our eyes on the prize: A cure for COVID-19.</p><p id="124c">I wasn’t going to write any more “pandemic stuff” until reading <a href="undefined">Helen Cassidy Page</a>’s latest story, which I linked to, below. And after this one, I promise…rather, I hope…to give it a rest.</p><p id="fbbc">But the virus is on my mind, <i>now</i>. And I’ll shake this funk, I will. I can bounce, and bounce back. That’s what writing does for us, no? Penning our thoughts is like an emotional laxative. We feel cleansed, after. And a lot less bloated from external bullshit.</p><p id="fba4">You guys rock, and if you’ve made it through this far, thank you. I’m starting to feel more like myself, already.</p><p id="b600">Funny thing: Do you know what I worry about most? Our cats. If something were to happen to my husband and me, who would care for them?</p><p id="dd4d">If the unthinkable should happen, and we were to expire here, at home, my sincere hope is that they would eat us.</p><p id="883c">After all, food is love.</p><p id="3a09">Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.</p><p id="d494"><b>Thanks so much for reading. If you enjoyed this,

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please check out the other stories below.</b></p><p id="d93f"><b>Also, if you’re seeking further distractions during this tough time, please consider subscribing to <a href="https://sherry.substack.com/">my new newsletter,</a> where I’ll do my damndest to keep you entertained.</b></p><div id="9afb" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/you-get-what-you-resist-55bab466c9ab"> <div> <div> <h2>You Get What You Resist</h2> <div><h3>A Lesson For Writers In The Time Of The Pandemic</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*wdSBrx2augjJf8Cf)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="417b" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/i-wanted-to-hug-my-oncologist-ca57c92e543d"> <div> <div> <h2>I Wanted to Hug My Oncologist</h2> <div><h3>Thanks to Covid-19 and Donald Trump, I hugged my phone instead.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*YAvTIDDjWvK-tpXGzq9EAg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="77ec" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-sex-in-your-words-6a383d41122f"> <div> <div> <h2>The Sex in Your Words</h2> <div><h3>Keep “talking.” I’m listening.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*ccBn4NvXKYoH8PmiaV0PYQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="de53" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/killer-39b4b415a7ac"> <div> <div> <h2>Killer</h2> <div><h3>A crime of pandemic proportions.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*EHFMz-WOGi_IZTH2ugQxpQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="5f22" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/sex-who-needs-it-449fc84af764"> <div> <div> <h2>Sex. Who Needs It?</h2> <div><h3>Me! That’s who!</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*RlzRhGjfrhbaM-QRcaBoyw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

The “We Hours”

On needing one another more than ever.

I’m not from California. But I do like my wine. Source: Free-Images.Com

I started writing the following late last night, after drinking a copious amount of wine, so forgive me if I ramble…

Every day, I get up, brush my teeth, splash my face with cold water, don my “uniform”…and go through the same damn motions as the day before.

I spend my days in the basement writing and, much like a vampire, venture back upstairs when the sun starts to wane. Then it’s dinner, TV, and bed, where my husband and I read our Kindles until lights out. Or for me, as soon as my pills kick in.

Today, after hearing that this pandemic and its ramifications could be with us through 2022, particularly the need to extend social distancing, I questioned my ability to make it through to the other side.

2022!

How are we supposed to do this? Already suffering from extreme cabin fever, many of us are struggling mightily. Emotionally. Economically. Physically. How will we endure another two years of this and remain sane, or what now passes for it?

Why bother with all the shit we’re told to do? Who cares if we eat right or not? Or if we exercise, or establish healthy routines? Will it matter? Does it matter?

Unemployment is at an all-time high. Frighteningly so. Personally, my meager stock options from my former employer have tanked and are literally, in the toilet.

And what of my 401k? Seeing the losses there might send me over the edge and I’m already way too close. But I know I’m not alone.

For those of you who lost your jobs, I am so sorry. My heart bleeds for you. Blessedly, I haven’t had to endure that kick in the teeth as I’ve been unemployed for two years. And my husband is still working.

Even the news is on a loop. The same empty rhetoric from the same talking heads. The same lies and disgraceful “fake news” put-downs from our disgraceful President who is literally melting down in front of the entire world.

The guy is batshit crazy and I question the sanity of anyone who can’t see this.

Even Dr. Birx. Although I admire and applaud her acumen, lately it seems that she has her head so firmly stuck up POTUS’ ass, that her brains have turned to shit.

All that bobblehead nodding at every slimy toad that crawls out of Trump’s maw.

And I’m sick of her colorful scarves, too. “Dr. Birx, switch it up, already.”

2022!

No. No freakin’ way. The pundits are just being “conservative” in their estimates, right? No one expects people to be quarantined for the next two years…right?

IF this should happen, I expect the shit will hit the fan in ways even Hollywood can’t imagine.

People will get ugly. There’ll be no more “pulling together.” No more Kumbaya. Especially if food becomes a premium. Oh, man. We will be in deep doo-doo, then.

Gun sales have already spiked, as people prepare for the day they’ll have to protect themselves and their families against potential marauders foraging for sustenance.

God forbid that should happen. Actually, I know nothing about “God” other than he/she doesn’t seem to be paying attention. We fucked up big time and we’re paying the price. Our propensity for conspicuous consumption of “stuff,” combined with our disrespect for the creatures who share this earth with us and our casual denigration of the earth itself, has done us in.

Take my hand. It’s clean. Source: Free-Images.Com

As we fray, evermore at our edges, I believe this community needs each other more than ever. We can use our words to soothe and uplift, to inspire and encourage, to bolster and console and to literally, help forge an insular world all our own.

A world where we can extend a virtual hand to those of us who need it. And we will need it.

So know that I am here for you as I believe you are for me. Let’s take a collective deep breath and keep our eyes on the prize: A cure for COVID-19.

I wasn’t going to write any more “pandemic stuff” until reading Helen Cassidy Page’s latest story, which I linked to, below. And after this one, I promise…rather, I hope…to give it a rest.

But the virus is on my mind, now. And I’ll shake this funk, I will. I can bounce, and bounce back. That’s what writing does for us, no? Penning our thoughts is like an emotional laxative. We feel cleansed, after. And a lot less bloated from external bullshit.

You guys rock, and if you’ve made it through this far, thank you. I’m starting to feel more like myself, already.

Funny thing: Do you know what I worry about most? Our cats. If something were to happen to my husband and me, who would care for them?

If the unthinkable should happen, and we were to expire here, at home, my sincere hope is that they would eat us.

After all, food is love.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

Thanks so much for reading. If you enjoyed this, please check out the other stories below.

Also, if you’re seeking further distractions during this tough time, please consider subscribing to my new newsletter, where I’ll do my damndest to keep you entertained.