As much as I didn’t want to write about this darn virus again, it’s all I can think about.

We’re fortunate to have home offices, and staying put isn’t unusual for us, but knowing you’re truly not supposed to go anywhere makes it seem overwhelming. Our work keeps us busy, but without any grandkids to watch or their sporting events to attend, it seems all we’re doing is working.

We’ve never gone out to eat much, so cooking every night is the norm, although I’ve struggled to find some of the staples on the grocery store shelves like eggs, milk and butter. I did check into having groceries delivered but there’s a week waiting time for pick-up. If someone is going to touch each item I’m bringing into the house, I’d just as soon it be my hands.

I’ve been reading to the grandkids by way of FaceTime as part of their school day or just to give the parents a break. I feel helpless on what to do to help everyone as I’m not even sure how to help myself at this point. I’m eating everything in the cabinet and basically feel like crap because my healthy habits have gone by the wayside. If the weather would let up on being so rainy and gloomy, I could at least go outside and start mowing, whether it needed it or not.

As the dog and I walk the 10 acres, I see many projects I’ll now have time to tackle. The thought of working outside brightens my spirits for a bit until reality sets in, and then I don’t feel like doing anything but raiding the pantry.

Part of my problem is I’ve watched too many movies on pandemics and sometimes my mind runs wild with comparing what I thought was entertainment to our real lives now. To think that nearly the entire world is on shutdown because of a virus is what movies are made of, and I wake up every morning hoping it’s not true.

I’ve always tried to find some humor in all situations, mostly for my own benefit. I began writing this column during difficult times while caring for my mom, who was dying from lung cancer, and watching out for dad, who was dealing with dementia. There was nothing funny about that situation, but sometimes all you can do is provide a laugh or two for someone else.

Sandy Turner lives in Independence, Missouri. Email her at