Limbo Like Me

You are probably wondering how to conflate the Limbo with Thanksgiving. After all, Thanksgiving is coming up. But you think too hard and while it seems that today I should be writing about Thanksgiving, burp, maybe it is better not to. I can think of few Thanksgivings when I did not feel like the Hindenburg after ingesting a record amount of turkey and stuffing. That's not a pretty picture. 

So let's forget Thanksgiving for a while and focus on the here and now. When I think of limbo I think of a couple different things. The first is the one associated with the song Limbo Like Me. The song is about a dance -- or at least a physical exercise in which the participant tries to limbo underneath a horizontally placed pole. Unlike the pole vault, in limbo the height of the horizontal pole gets lower and lower. You try to get yourself underneath the pole. Rubber man finally wins because he has no actual bones in his body and he is able to go under the bar at just a few inches off the ground. Inflexible people like me have to quit when the bar reaches about five feet from the ground. People at Thanksgiving parties often drink too much bubbly and often try the limbo dance as well as other strange activities like kissing your Aunt Ashley in the hall closet. 

Sadly, while colorful and not so much fun, this post is not about that limbo. It is more about "being in limbo". Being in limbo means not being in any specific state. It means being in between. Purgatory means being between heaven and hell. Limbo means you are waiting to see what floor you get off. And it is that purgatory that a lot of us are sadly getting used to.

What do I mean? It means that if you were unlucky enough to walk within four football fields of someone known to have active Covid, then you are immediately taken to purgatory. It depends on how strong and focused you might be, but the truth is that most of us in this purgatory are ready to jump off a tall construction crane.  I recently hugged someone who recently tested positive for Covid and luckily I am too afraid of heights to climb a tall construction crane. So instead of me diving from a tall object, my level of anxiety has shot higher than its normal heights and I am pretty damn sure that the Covid will either kill me or render me unable to fully enjoy my third helping of mashed potatoes. Either way, the anxiety is not my friend. 

One way to stay out of harms way when Covid is lurking about is to stay isolated. But that's no fun and it is pretty much impossible. We are all in limbo in the sense that we don't even know how many people we pass by and share the air with. So I say, to hell with it and hope that despite Covid, we will all have a safe, happy, and healthy Thanksgiving.  Hug your loved one. Eat a turkey.