I’d like to lay a big wet smooch of thanks on our leaders who willingly shut down the entire American industrial complex, just so I wouldn’t catch the COVID-19 flu.

Okay. On second thought, a soft elbow bump would be more appropriate in these germy times of uncertainty.

But my appreciation remains, nonetheless. 

See, you probably can’t tell by looking at the hunky boyish photograph that appears alongside my column each month, but I’m actually one of those 60-plus individuals who is at highest risk of getting really, really sick from this bug and possibly even, well, croaking.

I turn 69 this month, in fact.

Hey, I’m as shocked by this as you are. Seems like yesterday when I was running around carefree and cocksure in my long-haired 20s. Then – WHAM! – here I am, well down the potholed road to bald and shambling geezerdom.

Cocksure and carefree no longer, I am now well aware of my encroaching mortality.

So, due to family concerns and governmental wishes, my lovely wife, Sherry, and I are staying in our home for an undetermined period of self-quarantine. This way we can hopefully avoid the Coronavirus and being numbered among a sickly tsunami that threatens to swamp the entire healthcare system.

We’re sheltering in place. Or, as it’s more commonly conveyed in cinema, we’re under house arrest for the foreseeable future.  

Having built much of my journalistic career on the precept “misery does indeed love company,” I have decided to chronicle my isolation in a Clarksville Quarantine Diary.

Day 1

Dear Diary… In an attempt to ease into our situation, I convince my wife to join me and binge watch one of the more popular docudramas on Netflix.

Unfortunately, the series I select is called “I Am a Killer,” which profiles a different death row inmate in each segment.

Spoiler Alert: These stories always tend to end badly, as in: shooting, stabbing, dismemberment or he burned the remains for two days in an outdoor bonfire.

So much for slumbering peacefully during our self-quarantine.

… In the wake of several positive area cases of COVID-19, Spokane Mayor Nadine Woodward urges residents to remain “cautious, courteous and calm.”

Not to sound cynical, but aren’t these the same words that Capt. Smith said to Leonardo DiCaprio near the end of Titanic?

… All this toilet paper madness reminds me of one of my final foraging expeditions to a South Hill grocery store. Turns out I was lucky enough to find the last lousy four-pack left on the entire TP aisle.

So, I toted my prize up to the checkout. In an attempt to lighten the mood, I jokingly told the cashier that she might want to send someone to check on the old lady I knocked down to get to the wipes.

“Been a lot of that, lately,” she deadpanned while ringing up my purchase.

Day 2

Dear Diary… Gov. Jay Inslee urges Washington to “hunker down.”

Which is precisely what cost Mike Leach and the Cougars seven straight Apple Cups.

…To kill more quarantine time, I watch a rerun of the 2011 pandemic blockbuster, “Contagion.”

Twenty minutes into the movie, I can’t stop grinning. No matter what happens next, I’ve still outlived Gwyneth Paltrow.

…Random thought of the day: Since the virus began in China, I don’t see why it can’t be called the Chinese Flu. If it started at GU, say, I’m sure someone would call it Kennel Cough.

Day 3

Dear Diary… While organizing our food supplies, I discover the can of alligator meat I brought back from New Orleans three years ago as a joke.

“Please, God,” I pray to the ceiling. “Strike me dead before it comes to this.”

…Closures. Closures. Everywhere a closure. Disneyland. Baseball. The NBA. March Madness. Northern Quest.

Macy’s. Nordstrom. Bloomingdale’s. Restaurants. California…

Haven’t heard anything about professional bowling shutting down, but I presume they have the hygienic good sense to at least stop with the shoe rentals.

…Random thought of the day: Mayor Nadine suggests that Spokane’s downtown library may be used to harbor the homeless.

Which is different, um, how?

Day 4

Dear Diary… Grabbed a guitar this morning and began writing “The COVID-19 Blues.”

Went over to my neighbor’s.

To see if she had enough to eat.

Jumped out her kitchen window,

When I saw her comin’ up the street.

Quarantine. Quarantine.

Got nothing more t’lose.

Quarantine. Quarantine.

Got those scarifyin’ COVID-19 blues.

…Every facet of American life is ceasing to function.

It’s as if the entire nation has finally matched the pace of Spokane’s north/south freeway construction.

…Random thought of the day: Waiting lines to get into Costco are longer than Space Mountain on the Fourth of July.

This may really be the end of the world as we know it.

Day 5

Dear Diary… Everybody’s talking about “social distancing” as if it’s a new thing.

Not to me. Back when I was writing newspaper columns, anytime I’d walk into City Hall I’d hear some elected official yell:

“Clark, stay the hell away from me!”

Think that’s bad? Cops warned that their social distancing would involve Tasers if I ever dared show my mug at the police department.

…Spokane hotelier Walt Worthy closed the historic Davenport and three other hotels. He’s redirecting all patrons to stay in his Davenport Grand Hotel.

This guy’s a survivor. I’m betting Worthy transforms those Grand Terrace igloos into Quarantine Luxury Pods.

…For purposes of transparency, I should point out that the above joke actually began as a text from Emily, my quick-witted daughter.

When I told her I planned to use it in my quarantine diary, she quickly texted back:

“It’ll cost you one roll of toilet paper.”

“Deal!” I responded, adding that now I’d probably use the roll-for-a-joke idea, too.

“Two rolls, then,” she texted back.

Ah, still Daddy’s little girl!

Day 6

Dear Diary… The City of San Francisco issued a “shelter in place” rule, which is complete wishful thinking.

These bozos, after all, can’t even enforce a simple “don’t crap on the sidewalk” ordinance.

… Oh, oh. The federal government warned against any gatherings of larger than 10 people.

The Matt Shea Fan Club has nothing to worry about.

Day 7

Dear Diary… Mayor Nadine is urging all of us to purchase gift cards from our favorite local businesses and restaurants.

Then months from now we’ll be able to take those gift cards to the empty buildings where our favorite local establishments used to be.

…The news gets worse and worse. In an attempt to protect employees, Walmart officials will not only reduce store hours, but replace their beloved Walmart Greeter with a new symbol: the Walmart Reaper.

…Random thought of the day: Why are they letting felons out of prison? Isn’t being incarcerated the very definition of social distancing?

Day 8

Dear Diary… A news commentator claims the silver lining in this pandemic is that it gives older Americans like me more free time for self-improvement.

Point taken. After several minutes of soul-searching, I decide to add a second nap to my afternoon regimen.

…Mark my words. So many things about life in America are going to disappear once we get through this Corona nightmare.

Things like: Costco samples. Open air grocery store olive bars. Licking envelopes. Fondue will be Fondon’t.

And how about those communal lentils and gummy bear bins at the organic hippie marts? Yuck! Those things creeped me out long before Corona.

If I were in charge I’d issue an immediate ban on the biggest germ factory of all: the chocolate fountain.

Once at a fancy Sunday brunch I watched this kid stick all of his nose-picking fingers and then his entire fist into the chocolate murk. I almost hurled.

The future, if we survive long enough to make it there, will have a lot more hand sanitizer.

Day 9

Dear Diary…

Should’a got my (bleep) t’gether.

When the bells began to toll.

Yesterday I swapped my Rolex,

For one Charmin Mega roll.

Quarantine. Quarantine.

I got nothin’ more t’lose.

Quarantine. Quarantine.

Got those scarifyin’ COVID-19 blues.