COVID-19 Essentials: A List


By Kit-Bacon Gressitt

  1. Chocolate, except chocolates can be infested by meal moths and weevils prior to packaging, and imagine the horror of opening a nice bit of the stuff to find pale little larvae dancing on your comfort food. OK, Nutella it is.
  2. Adult beverages, an uninspired choice and one that’s prone to depressive responses. Nonetheless, a nice hot toddy can infuse unexpected entertainment value in the profoundly mundane.
  3. Spam, at least according to my significant other. Upon reconsideration, I take issue with this one: I have serious concerns about mushy animal product and its devastating effects on the Earth—and the animals.
  4. Boxing gloves, essential weapons in the TP Wars, although printed newspapers could make a comeback. Recycle and reuse!
  5. All the books I’ve ever pretended to have read, successfully faking it at literary events, where I gleaned I had company.
  6. Mayonnaise jar, sterile tubing and 50-cc. syringe. If the virus doesn’t wreak havoc on reproductive justice, the Trumpian Supreme Court will, so, like a good scout, we need to be prepared.
  7. Chlorine tablets, in case we have to start drinking the pool water. I mean, who knows where this is headed? And I’m certain I’m not the only one who’s peed in there.
  8. Satellite phone, the last hope of maintaining connection with distant loved ones when the nation’s communications infrastructure falters in a miasma of neglect and pirated services.
  9. Art supplies, because I’ve had a virus-induced epiphany. I followed the wrong path back in 1975: I was meant to be an artist—an artist! I’d be just as poor as I am as a lecturer, but I wouldn’t have to grade papers and I could stay up all night creating meaningful shit, so even if the virus takes us all down, there’ll be a lasting memorial to humanity and our self-extermination.
  10. Gun. Cuz you just can’t trust any of those damn NRA nuts. They’d shoot a person for a can of Spam, and if they come near my pool water, I’ll splatter them. 

Photo credit: © K-B Gressitt 2020