By Mary Lynn Bruny

Our old cat Poppy has taken to sleeping even more than usual lately. I think she’s going into semi-hibernation from the lack of activity in our house. She’s a social critter (orange tabbies are people lovers), and is use to my husband and me having family and friends around. You can tell she gets excited when the doorbell rings but then is disappointed when it’s just another gosh darn brown box coming through the door. (That being said, she’s waiting to crawl into that box as soon as it’s emptied.)

I can relate to Poppy. I feel the same way. (Not so much about the crawling into a box but the sleeping.) Hibernation may be the way to go until we get a vaccine. Actually I think I’ve been slowly sliding into semi-hibernation without even knowing it. Perhaps we all are. Answer these questions and see if you can relate:

Are you consistently wearing clothes that work as both loungewear and sleepwear (a.k.a. sweats)? Do you sometimes crawl into bed without even bothering to change?

Do you look in your closet and wonder why you have all those other clothes with buttons and zippers? What’s the point of all that work just to get dressed?

If you have work video calls, do you simply add a professional looking shirt (usually the same one), not even bothering to change out of your lounge pants? (Assuming you are at least wearing lounge pants and are not walking around in your skivvies.)

Have your hair standards greatly lowered (assuming you have any left at all)? For instance, are you not at all concerned with how the back of your head looks even if the tangled mess could house a family of small mice (and maybe does)?

Have you decided that it’s now okay to go to the store in your old bunny slippers like a hung over college student? Do you think tying the laces of actual shoes is just too much work?

Have all your positive quarantine plans faded away as the months have slipped by: You gave up on your adult coloring books as staying inside the lines proved far too stressful; you talk with people so infrequently you can barely speak English anymore let alone deal with online Italian lessons; and your work out equipment is now getting less action than a skinny, pimply teenager. Do you think it’s work enough just to get through each day of this crazy year, zombie-like?

Have you packed on enough extra poundage that your body can handle a few weeks or even months without substance and do okay? Would your digestive tract simply give a deep sigh of relief?

Do you have a favorite spot on a couch or chair where you always sit to watch Netflix that is now shaped perfectly to fit your bottom? Is there a cozy throw blanket right by said spot that you don’t even bother folding up anymore because it’s just part of your quarantine nest? Is this nest filled with crumbs and pet hair? If so, do you not even care?

Has the ongoing barrage of bad news put you in a catatonic stupor?

Hmm, maybe I am ready for that brown box. I can just climb in, curl up, hide from the world and take a nice hibernating snooze with our fat, cozy cat until early spring. Not a bad plan.

Mary Lynn Bruny is a Colorado freelance writer. Contact her at [email protected].