Pandemic wasn’t part of my budget planning

According to female cosmetology industry financial reports from the second quarter of the current fiscal year, makeup sales have fallen off 14 percent from the same period in 2019. In other words, there's a lot more wrinkled, blotchy, pale chicks runnin' around out there. And who says the coronavirus is not the worst public health crisis since Wendy's introduced the Baconator (man, three gristle patties, nine strips of fried pork fat, that thing would clog an artery just by smellin' it).

That aforementioned financial statistic is true, by the way, as women who have been forced to stay home due to social distancing have not been bothering to paint their faces as much as usual. That makes sense, I suppose, but it also means cents for Revlon and Estee Lauder and Maybelline (I absolutely adore their Instant Age Rewind Eraser Dark Circles Treatment Concealer), and, in turn, that impacts the overall economy. According to industry experts, every $100,000 in lost sales of matte lip gloss translates into 3.2 fewer jobs for women who stand around in white coats and do nothing at Younkers counters, and, yeah, even though I made those last numbers up, you catch my drift.

Or maybe you don't. I get paid the same either way.

My point is, the current pandemic is having far-reaching impacts on American business, from the cosmetics example to new vehicle sales to real estate transactions to tremendous losses for the travel and entertainment industries. Southwest Airlines, as just one example, saw its revenues fall by $915 million in this year's first quarter alone, and if you combine all the economic losses of all the companies all across the country, it'd be like a really, really, really big number.

Yeah, I know, you don't get that kinda' stuff without exhaustive research.

It's a small scale comparison, obviously, but I've noticed my own purchases waning in the last few months as the COVID-19 bug has turned us into a face-mask wearing population that thinks it's maybe gonna die every time it sneezes 'cuz a spring tree pollen spore has blown into our nostril. Yes, I do understand that coronavirus is a contagious malady and that precautions must be taken to inhibit its spread, but I also understand that as seldom as I properly clean my house, there are likely far more sinister contagions living on my refrigerator shelves that could kill me more quickly (the lunch meat's not supposed to be the same shade of green as the lettuce, right?). Hmm, no wonder why you never stop over for lunch.

One area of my usual budget that I see is way down is my Kentucky Fried Chicken expense. I try to set aside enough for at least two stops per month, with a 3-piece dark meat original recipe meal with mashed potatoes and mac & cheese typically running me about $7.98. Let's see, if you multiply that by two, you get a bigger number yet, and since I haven't been to KFC since this whole pandemic commenced, that means I should have more cash in my wallet than I actually do. Funny how that works, no?

I still spend the same on normal expenses, such as my mortgage payment, electricity, internet, cable TV, etc. Staying home more has caused some costs to rise though, such as my utility bill, which I expect will take a jump this quarter because I have been home more than usual and thus have had to -- well, let's be open about this -- I've had to flush more often. Normally, I try to do my business at other people's homes or in mall restrooms so I can use somebody else's water, but in this day of social distancing, it's difficult to stay at least 6 feet away from someone when they're trying to block your path into their bathroom. I've tried the 'ol ruse of purposely forgetting my phone or something in there so I have an excuse to come back in a few hours, but, you know, people are crabby during this lockdown and they catch on to that pretty fast. Especially when that toilet paper shortage thing was goin' on.

Speaking of shortages, for a time I could not find any distilled water, which I need for my sleep apnea machine (lest my throat dry out so thoroughly you could light a fire in there). People panicked at first and began to hoard such items, and distilled water was about as rare on the store shelf as a package of hamburger buns that somebody hasn't already squeezed to see if they're fresh. At one store I visited, they put the distilled water behind a counter and made you give them a reason why you needed it. Turns out 'nuclear fission experiments' and 'dissolving family members' remains' weren't acceptable, but they begrudgingly let me buy one when I told' em I might otherwise die a horrid death in my sleep. Nice of 'em, huh. Things have eased in that regard, at least, as toilet paper is once again plentiful. The distilled water is back on the shelf, too, and to be safe I've been buying a little extra. Just say I've got enough now to float a decent-sized aircraft carrier in my bedroom.

Gasoline is another thing on which I've been spending less. With far fewer places to go to cover news events for this paper, and my social excursions cut back from 'hardly any' to 'barely none' (might have something to do with that bathroom thing), I find hardly no reason to pull into the pumps. That was almost difficult, recently, as when the priced dipped to $1.34 a gallon, it almost seemed wrong not to stop to buy some. I'd look down to see that my tank was still almost full, and I'd be like, 'Darn, I knew I shoulda' bought a 12-cylinder Hummer.'

Like everyone else, I'm surely hoping this pandemic eases soon, so we can all get back to normal routines like spending large wads of cash on things we don't need and can't afford. That's good for America, after all, and by golly, if that's what it takes to get us back on track, I'm in.

We'll talk about it next time I stop by to use your bathroom.

THE

BORN

LESAR