Covid brought with it a whole dictionary of new terms ranging from Delta to Bulto, new forms of greeting from fist bumps to elbow touching, the word positive was looked at negatively and negative looked at positively, and as for me personally, it turned my orderly predictable life into  positively unpredictable chaos. The new normal was further away from normal as it could be in my case, as the thoughts and scenarios penned below will illustrate.

Me, Myself and I 

Ever been in a threesome? Wait before you think this is some steamy, raunchy, erotic fantasy, let me assure you that the discourse that follows is clean as the driven snow and absolutely suited for a bedtime story, bed being the operative word here. But I am putting the cart before the horse, to fully understand my predicament I need to explain my circumstances, My professional life is such that I commute between two locations, my apartment in Colombo and home down under, separated by a couple of miles of ocean and a continent thrown in for good measure. 

In my apartment my nocturnal routine is very simple. Usually a take away dinner with my mastiff Jeeves lying on the carpet at the foot of my bed and a large screen TV providing some cinematic thrills. There are days when I awaken in the middle of the night with the TV on , lights on and in my sleep, fumble for whatever switches are within arm’s reach, switch off and fall back into a sweet slumber. There are other days when I awaken with everything on (electrical that is) and get ready to face the day.

Now comes scenario two, the home front down under, where bed is always a ‘menage a trois’ or in plain English a threesome, (No! It’s not what you are thinking!) I come into bed, armed with my marzipan chocolates and coffee, my nightly ritual, and then the waltz begins. On one side of me is the wife engrossed in the latest Korean TV soap (it’s now switched to Greys Anatomy, with more blood per episode than a liter bottle of ketchup) ) and then I am joined by our Beagle Snoopy who begins by settling himself at the foot of the bed, and as time goes by moves to the middle making up the third companion (all clear now I hope). Headphones on and laptop perched on my stomach I continue my TV escapades with somewhat lighter fare served up by Netflix or Acorn, after a while, I get the order to switch off the bedside lamp, from my nearest and dearest which I dutifully do. Snoopy then moves to the middle of the bed warmed on either side on a cold winters night and I finally put aside my laptop and drop off to dreamland.

I have to explain that I am a sleeper who rolls around. I can start sleeping at point A and wake up at point Z and this particular morning I realized the dangers this arrangement poses. In my sleep I threw my leg over a soft warm body, but somewhere in my sub conscious alarm bells began to ring. My wife had either grown a large amount of hair on her legs overnight or the pillow had burst and I had a leg over a case full of goose feathers. Opening my eyes I look down at Snoopy contemplating the family jewels from his vantage point, the expression on his face said if this leg gets any heavier, I will need to bite something off to get some attention. This Covid is getting to me, nothing is safe anymore. 
I am seriously contemplating getting what the cricketers wear to protect the family heirlooms as a part of my night attire. If I ask the better half to make a choice between Snoopy and me, guess who will end up on the living room couch tonight.

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Hello!
Covid 19 has got me all thumbs, wrists and elbows. For someone who is used to the conventional handshake and the comradely hug, nowadays when I meet someone I seem to be going into convulsions. My hands go out and then come in, my fist balls up into the fist bump just in case and my elbows develop a twitch in the event touching elbows is the preferred mode of greeting. The uncertainty of what the person I am greeting is going to do serves to affect my vocal cords since my brain is trying to anticipate a few moves ahead in this game of handshake chess, and instead of a "hello, how are you doing?" all that comes out is a mumbled indecipherable murmur at best or even worse a gargling sound that sounds like one is being strangled. All this after many years in the music business and finally mastering the homie handshake, where I simply give my hand, let it be mangled in different directions and retrieve it when the snap of the fingers alerts me that the ritual is over. It’s now back to the drawing board once again. 

To Sneeze or Not to Sneeze!
To sneeze or not to sneeze that is the question. This modern-day quandary is something I am sure Hamlet would have pondered deeply upon if he ever had the misfortune of living in today’s covid infested modern day world.

All you have to do is to walk into a supermarket to prove this theory right, your nose tickles, you momentarily forget you are living in 2022 and throw your head back for a hearty sneeze. When you suddenly realize people are diving behind the shelves, clearing the aisles, giving you a wide berth and covering their faces in preparation for this onslaught. Yup this is not some manifestation of racism, nothing to get overly sensitive about, the same reaction is meted out to any unfortunate soul regardless of color, race or creed.

Now if you are one of those lucky ones who has mastered the art of stifling a sneeze, the delicately pinched nostrils followed by an almost inaudible gulping sound that’s fine. But I just haven’t got that technique, tried it once and felt my eyeballs popping out. So all that is left is the crook of your elbow which becomes a depository for a fine spray and has me exiting in search of Kleenex and water. Can’t wait for Covid19 to finally depart the world and let us go back to sneezing like there’s no tomorrow. Welcome to the new normal.