Two days ago, I looked in the mirror and found Rapunzel dangling from the embedded end of one my nose hairs.  I had to get my electric clippers, tilt them at just the right angle to get them into my nostril, then fire them up like a weed eater.  It took two good swipes to eradicate that little sucker but I got it out.  But it was HUGE!  Like those big plastic neon plants that wave back and forth in the bottom of an aquarium.  Oh, yes!  THAT was my nose hair.  That happened.  And you just wait.  There are many more of these "corona confessions" coming your way.  But first, I have to give you a little back story on how I got to this dark, psychological space.

As many, most or all of you know, Kevin and I had to come back from New York City early.  We were supposed to be in NYC from Tuesday, March 10th through Wednesday, March 18th.  However, due to the coronavirus outbreak and the fact that New York City was literally closing down around us, we decided to cancel the remainder of our trip and haul our behinds home on Friday the 13th.

Since that time, we have been on a 14-day quarantine, just to make sure we didn't contract the virus in the Big Apple and to make sure, even more so, that we don't run the risk of passing it along to someone way more susceptible to it than we are.  While we are doing our part to curb the potential spread of the virus and to "flatten" the proverbial "curve," I have quickly learned that this bird wasn't meant to be caged.  But when he is, this normally colorful macaw throws all vanity out the window and he doesn't give a flying flip what his feathers look like.

Confession!  Monday, I did my entire morning show with no underwear on.  Oh, yeah, Baby!  NONE!  And Angel had no idea until Tuesday when I confessed it to her on the air.  LOL!  Now, I am normally quite the fan of a good boxer brief.  In fact, I typically prefer a smooth, snug fit.  But since I have been home bound, this squirrel doesn't really care where or if the acorns are stored.

Another confession.  On Tuesday, I didn't brush my teeth until 2 o'clock . . . IN THE AFTERNOON!  Now, if anyone knows me well, they know that I brush and floss my teeth endlessly.  My dental hygienist will tell you that I brush my teeth so often and so vigorously that I basically need skin grafted off my thighs and sewn onto my gums because they have receded so much.  Literally, my teeth have so little gum support, I could sneeze one day and shoot a molar across the room.  You haven't seen a darts game at the AmVets until you've seen me launch an incisor into the bullseye.

Confession:  I typically trim my beard and shave every single day.  But, not since my self-imposed quarantine.  Uh uh.  I am a sketchy cabin in the woods away from being the Unabomber.  Seriously.  I look like 23andMe was tasked with making a DNA match with Ted Kaczynksi. If you receive a suspicious-looking parcel in the mail, I promise it's not from me.  But, in all seriousness, my face looks like a Magna Doodle exploded on it.

Confession: While I have not taken a razor, disposable or electric, to my face, I have had to shave my ears twice this week.  My freaking EARS!!!  What have I become in my isolation?  A lemur? A Gremlin?  An Ewok???  I'm pretty sure if any more hairs pop up on my ear lobes, National Geographic is going to send a photographer to my house or, better yet, Animal Planet is going to send a documentary crew to film me in my natural habitat.

Confession:  I am not normally a snacker.  I mean, I eat breakfast, lunch and dinner, but I'm not one to snack a bunch.  Well, let me tell you what.  The times they haveth a changeth.  I have been broadcasting from my dining room table where my back is to the kitchen.  Right behind me is a cabinet that contains a variety of foods- some small and nutritional servings of "Cranberry Health Mix" (which, let's be honest, sounds like something a finch would eat), some bags of granola, a few boxes of energy bars (that may be expired), some almonds and about six jars of peanut butter that I got from a major ClickList malfunction at the Kroger.  Now, also in that cabinet are some evil temptresses (a.k.a. boxes of Girl Scout Cookies).  Every time I accomplish a work project, even menial tasks like answering just one email, I like to reward with myself with something tangible- like a fistful of Samoas.

Trust me.  I am learning through this process that I could be a stress eater.  Even though I am working from home, work is incredibly busy as you can imagine.  Every once in a while I just have to stop, get up from the table, walk away from the lap top and have a grilled ham and cheese and half a bag of Tostitos.  I don't even drink soft drinks anymore and last Wednesday I chugged a Coke like it was a Jager Bomb or one of those little syrup bottles full of Fireball.  And I will not be judged for it.

Confession: I made Angel listen to me eat a bowl of cereal Thursday morning.  For the record, it was sensible bowl of Total.  100% whole grain flakes and only 110 calories per serving.  Well, 150 calories with a 1/3 cup milk.  Apparently, I sounded like a cow chewing its cud.  Angel said I sounded disgusting.  Like a pack of zombies on The Walking Dead stumbled across a tasty teenager or meaty farm animal.

Confession: I wore the exact same pair of gym shorts from Sunday, March 15th through Friday, March 20th.  I am certain that if I walked into the Centers for Disease Control right now, the industrial alarm system would kick on and they would drag me into a shower and scrub me with down with steel wool.

Confession: I haven't sprayed my armpits with Right Guard since last Monday.  Yeah, I'll own it.  I haven't worn deodorant in seven consecutive days.  I look like Pig-Pen from the Peanuts.  I'm surprised my dogs haven't tried to roll on me when I lie down in bed.  For perspective, normally my dogs roll around in piles of rabbit pellets in the backyard.  So, that's my new reality.  I'm rabbit pellets.  Here comes Chadwick Cottontail.

Now.  I know some of you will read this and think that I have shared WAY too much information. #TMI However, I'm just keeping it real for you all.  I could get up each morning and shave, take my bath, do a little quality contol with my manscaping, put on some lotions and potions, power wash these teeth, gargle that Listerine and then walk a whole 28-and-a-half feet to work at my dining room table.  Or, I could just tumble out of bed, stumble to the kitchen, open up the lap top, throw on the mic and let 'er rip looking like I just woke up the morning after a Sigma Phi Epsilon toga party.  Since I am quarantined for another week, I choose Option B.

And, speaking of letting 'er rip.  Well . . . er . . . confession.

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