Humor
When You’re Stuck at Home and Things Get Bizarre
The pandemic has unhinged humans and non-humans alike.
I have been super frustrated being cooped up at home. Last week, going for a driver’s license renewal felt like a trip to Disneyland. I couldn’t wait to talk to someone other than my husband.
“Am I crazy?” questioned my brain.
“No way! Most people are in the same boat,” quipped my mind.
“If most people are in the same boat, how are they social distancing?” pondered my brain struggling to visualize that boat.
My mind rolled its eyes and gave up. The first question had now been rendered moot.
We live in strange times. Someone in a far-off province had close encounters of the catastrophic kind with a bat; and now, our entire planet is grappling with a pandemic. And, it is messing not only with our bodies but also with our heads.
I had no idea the pandemic is stressing out our non-human friends, too. Closer to home, some of my household items have been acting rather strange. Not as strange as humans act, but close enough for me to challenge the sanity of the items in question.
The sleazy vacuum cleaner
My robotic vacuum cleaner, who I found to be cute (think ‘Wall-E’-cute), has turned out to be a Grade-A creep. As soon as I press the ‘On’ button on him, he heads towards my oscillating fan, ignoring every instruction I punch into his remote. He, then, starts banging into the fan like a crazed teenager high on hormones.
I’ve observed this compulsive behavior day in and day out and failed to put a finger on it. Is he passive-aggressively bullying the fan or dry humping it?
The fickle oscillating fan
Speaking of passive-aggressive actions, that very fan bullies me when my husband isn’t looking. It oscillates on its own and blows a blast of air in my face. It is well-aware that I do not enjoy those blasts.
I’d like to give it the benefit of doubt and believe the series of lightning storms that gripped Georgia tripped up its circuits. But I’m skeptical of that theory because it behaves like a gullible, love-struck pushover with my husband and eats out of his hand.
The vengeful green onion plants
On the subject of eating, I proudly transferred a task from my list of ‘Infinite number of things I wanna start in 2020’ to the list of ‘Handful of things I accomplished in 2020’ — gardening.
I like to call it apartment-steading — I grow edible plants and vegetables in my apartment — in case the world comes to a grinding halt and we’re not allowed to do groceries. A veggie in hand is worth two in the grocery store.
I’ve succeeded in growing everything except green onions. My green onion plants are literally spiraling out of control.
They shot out like cannonballs when I placed the roots in water and seemed to be on their way to breaking the glass ceiling, as far as shoots go.
But transferring them to a pot full of soil has messed them up real good. Now they are growing in spirals instead of growing straight. I think they want revenge because I potted them. It put an end to their nightly strolls through our apartment; you see.
On my sister’s advice, I have now started talking to them. Yes, talking out loud to them, to soothe their nerves and help them grow in the right direction.
“Isn’t that just a tad bit weird?” I asked her.
“Well… it is very effective, you know. I talk to my plants too. Basil, mint, rhododendron, all of them. Why would it be weird?” she replied.
“Of course not, that’s perfectly normal,” I added with hesitation. “Call me if they ever start replying to you. It might be time to visit your shrink,” I muttered.
The teleporting bird-feeder
A month ago, our bird-feeder, like the birds it was feeding, took flight from our balcony railing. We scoured our balcony, apartment, downstairs neighbor’s balcony, the grounds, every place within a 100-mile radius with a fine-tooth comb, but to no avail. It’s been a month since it went missing, and I’ve given up hopes of its return.
The only logical explanation is that somewhere in our balcony there exists a wormhole, and our bird-feeder teleported to a much better COVID-free world through it. I guess it is feeding bigger birds there.
I am working on the script for Stranger Things season 4. I expect my misbehaving housemates to strike a chord with fans much better than those outlandish monsters from season 1–3 did. I’m sure season 4 will be a massive hit. I base my script on real-life events, you know, and not on flights of fancy.
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Manasi is a writer, poetess, avid yogi, and a travel enthusiast who loves humor. You can find her on Twitter @Manasi_K99.