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COLUMNS

Outtakes: When good is bad and bad is good

Frank Weaver Jr.
Suburbanite correspondent

Since it's all around us from sea to shining sea, the pandemic of which I write, I was concerned and reasonably surprised when the doctor ordered Peggy to take a COVID-19 test. It seems that no matter what you do to prevent the spread of this virus, somehow it manages to sneak its way into your home, your lifestyle and your loved ones.

Frank Weaver Jr.

“We won't know the results for about two days,” she told me upon returning from taking the test. In the meantime I tried to act as normal as possible without alarming her.

“Two days?! E-Gads! It sounds more like two lifetimes. What will I do?” I mumbled to myself. “I can't touch her until we know for sure. We'll have to shake hands, Oops! Can't do that either. Hmm!” Even though it's no match for a kiss, I guess all we have left is the ol' elbow bump. That is, unless I hit her crazy bone.

If the test shows she has the virus and the doctor orders no more driving, that means I may have to drive her everywhere. But with a Honda CRV, I'm not sure there's six feet of separation in that vehicle. Of course I could always put her in the third seat facing backwards with her feet hanging out the back window. She could laugh and wave to the cars behind us as they're about to pass.

Naw! That wouldn't work. The wife loves to laugh but she'd never fall for that. It's more fun to see where you're going when you're a front seat passenger than it is to see where you've just been.

And sleeping? In the same bedroom? And in the same bed? Horrors! We like to cuddle on a cold winter's night so we have a regular size bed. Regardless, with a queen or king size, we still wouldn't be six feet apart. I tend to roll when sleeping and over the course of almost 48 years of wedded bliss, have gotten close to rolling so far across the bed I've nearly kicked her out. Looks as if we could be in for twin beds set six feet apart.

But that raises another issue. What's the last thing I say to her? Good night, Honey. Wanna push your elbow this way? The closest one will due.

That doesn't sound very romantic for wedded bliss to continue growing.

At my golden age, and married for years, I'm set in my ways. So imagine how glad I was when she came home the next day with a grin plastered from ear to ear saying, “The test came back early.”

She stood there for what seemed to be history's longest 24 hour minute. “Well,” I asked starting to feel somewhat miffed. “Are you going to tell me or do I have to hire Adrian Monk?”

“I'm free,” she shouted dancing a jig. “I don't have the coronavirus. All I have is a little cold.”

I hugged her, planted a kiss on her lips and whispered in her ear, “Thank the Good Lord you're positive. We're all still safe.”

She pushed me back and looked me square in the eyes as if to see if I was nipping that hard apple cider my brother occasionally brews. “No, I'm negative. I'm free from the virus,” she said.

“If negative is good,” I asked somewhat confused, “then positive's bad. Is that what your saying? If so, since a plus sign signals for positive and a minus signals for negative, that means an A-plus on a report card or test paper is bad and a D-minus is good, right?”

Once again she stood there, straight as an arrow, one foot in front of the other with both hands on her hips, not saying a word but just glaring and shooting invisible daggers my way.

I think there goes that long time wedded bliss!

Comments may be emailed to: Frankweaverjr@aol.com