When Ebola arrives in the neighborhood, you go to the close, but expensive, grocery store and buy all of the name-brand, full-price snacks–including the big bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. I may just hole up and not leave–except to get more snacks–this weekend. It’s like I have Lady Macbeth-syndrome–I can’t stop washing my hands–just without the murder on the conscience.
This is so funny, except it’s not…