Yesterday, as I was digging through my purse to find my keys, masks were falling out of my purse, all over the place, like it was a volcano spewing blue and white lava. Sometimes, when I reflect on moments like these, I sit in awe and wonder and disbelief, at just how completely bizarre my ordinary, suburban life has gotten to be. My friends send “Score!” texts when they find cans of Lysol or Clorox wipes for sale somewhere. Big Brother makes frequent, stern announcements over the speakers in my grocery store, to follow the directional arrows, in the aisles and when the announcement is made, everyone looks like sheepish robbers, while donning our masks, whispering apologies for having our carts pointed in the wrong direction. We’ve made the decision for our daughter to start out school online, fully recognizing that most of the high school teachers are my age and older, and thus, probably as adept with computers as I am, which is terrifying. Anytime anyone in our family coughs or sneezes or complains of a sore throat, the first step for me, is to practice mindful breathing, so as not to go into a full-blown panic attack. The list goes on and on. If we thought life was absurd before COVID, we are definitely in Wonderland territory, now.
“In the sphere of thought, absurdity and perversity remain the masters of the world, and their dominion is suspended only for brief periods.” – Arthur Schopenhauer
“Basically, at the very bottom of life, which seduces us all, there is only absurdity, and more absurdity. And maybe that’s what gives us our joy for living, because the only thing that can defeat absurdity is lucidity.” – Albert Camus