Corona Princess Diaries Day 14
Hello, everybody! Sorry for the slight delay in posting the latest installment of Princess Mia’s diary. I received the page-proofs of No Offense, my new adult book that will be out in August, as well as the draft of a script for a film based on one of my books (sorry! Nothing official to announce yet, and of course because of Covid, filming is a long way off. But it’s a great script!), so I had to read them. That put me a little behind deciphering Princess Mia’s very bad hand writing. Her diaries are a mess!
But Corona Princess Diaries Day 14 is here now. Please enjoy below!
And remember, as with any diary, the princess is only recording her thoughts at the given moment. Her diary has had no copy editing. Also, both the princess and I are aware that this is a serious and rapidly developing crisis.
I would like to thank health care workers, first responders, and everyone else out there working to keep us healthy, safe, and fed right now. If you’d like to help people who are in need during this crisis, I suggest supporting your local food bank. Find one here.
And if you like to read, please support your local indie bookstore (many will deliver books to your home) by ordering them here at BookStoreLink.
I hope you enjoy this fourteenth FREE installment of The Princess Diaries – Quarantine Edition.
Corona Princess Diaries Day 14
Today it finally happened:
Michael was released from self-isolation!
And thanks to my incredible skills in diplomacy (but mainly because I’m a female leader of a constitutional monarchy, and in this world crisis, female leaders have so far shown the best responses, banding together like lionesses to keep our pride countries safe and healthy), I acquired eleven hundred rapid coronavirus test kits from the chancellor of Germany.
So Dr. Khan gave Michael one, and . . . he passed! He has been declared officially virus free!
“Oh, Michael!” I cried, after he’d given the twins hugs and kisses, then walked into our bedroom, where I was finally able to throw my arms around him and inhale his fresh Michael smell. Instantly, I felt better than I had in days—fourteen days, to be exact.
I’ll talk to him later about the beard he appears to be growing. And I don’t understand what is going on with his sideburns. But those are small, superficial things that don’t matter. Michael is back in my arms!
“You won’t even believe what happened while you were gone, Michael,” I cried. “The Genovian Restaurant and Hotel Association is suing me for shutting down all the bars and casinos! And Lana tried to come visit for Easter! And Fat Louie has hyperthyroidism! And Rocky got into fight with a swan! And Grandmere is engaged to a nineteen year old music history major from the University of Florida, and fully intends to marry him, despite their seventy year or more age difference. And she accused me of being ageist!”
“Mia,” Michael said, as he untied my sweat pants. Really I should have dressed up a little for his return, but I’ve stress eaten so much cheese that none of my regular clothes fit anymore. “I already know all that. I was in a guest room down the hall, not Siberia. You and I saw each other across the balcony every day, remember?”
“Oh, right.” I believe I’m suffering from quarantine-induced amnesia. I can’t remember what day it is or even what month. “Well, what are we going to do?”
“Maybe we could wait a day or two to figure it out.” Michael pulled off my comfy knee-length quarantine cardigan and also the I Heart GenoviaT-shirt I’ve been wearing for several days straight beneath it. I would have changed, but it’s my only shirt that fits. “Hmmm, what’s going on here—no bra?”
“Michael,” I scoffed. “It’s a pandemic. No one wears a bra anymore. Not unless they’re jogging or giving a press brief—“
I didn’t get to finish, however. That’s because he’d thrown me across the bed, where we spent a very pleasant half hour or so ravaging each other’s bodies.
His body hadn’t changed so much since I’d last seen it (except for the beard and sideburns, which I honestly don’t understand since he had to have had a razor in there. Unlike me, who has had no access to Paolo or hair dye, so I’m growing a white stripe down the part in my hair that looks exactly like the one the mom grew in the original Poltergeist movie after she entered the gate to the other dimension to rescue her daughter Carol-Anne. Ruling a country during Covid is a lot like entering a gate to another dimension, just without the ectoplasm).
Of course, Michael wasn’t left alone to cope with twin toddlers, a demented senior, and an entire country that’s demanding to re-open even though there is no scientific data to indicate that this would be safe, so all that happened to him was that his facial hair got longer.
But when you’re in love, looks don’t matter, as we know from Beauty and the Beast. Even something as hideous as a beard and sideburns like a confederate general from the Civil War can still be sexy . . . or at least politely ignored for the time being.
Afterwards, when we were still snuggling together in the after glow of amazing reunion sex, Michael said, “Would you care to tell me why there’s a wine refrigerator next to the bed?”
“Oh,” I said, raising my head from his chest. “Because it’s more convenient to have it here than in the closet, where it used to be.”
“I think what I meant was, why is there a wine refrigerator in our bedroom at all?”
“Oh, well, because it was getting so inconvenient to keep asking the major domo to have bottles sent to my room. This way, all I have to do is lean down and grab one. I’ve gotten fast enough now that I can reach down and open a new bottle in the 15 seconds between episodes of shows on Netflix without even missing the intro. Speaking of which, where are my manners? Would you like a glass? I have a very nice pinot gris from a case sent to me by the prime minister of New Zealand.”
“Mia, it is eleven o’clock in the morning.”
“Michael, this is Europe. People drink wine at lunch all the time.”
“Since when is eleven o’clock lunch?”
“Michael, a lot of things have happened since you went into self-isolation, and I’m not just talking about my grandmother getting engaged to someone who isn’t even old enough to remember Myspace. The world is different. We wear facemasks and stand six feet away from one another—or at least we’re supposed to. There are lunatics out there who insist that their civil rights are being violated by being asked to do so. Everyone else is trying to make the best of it, doing the socially responsible thing like staying home and helping their kids with distance learning, which is basically horrible for both the parents and the kids, and when this is over, I’m giving teachers huge raises. So we have all started drinking wine to cope, and no one judges anyone else for it.”
Michael spread his hands wide. “I’m not judging! Obviously, you’ve been working hard and deserve as much wine as you want. I was just surprised to see a wine refrigerator where the night table used to be, that’s all.”
“Well, the nice thing about wine fridges is that they work perfectly well as night tables. You see now nicely the lamp fits on there? And my box of tissues and moisturizer? It’s essential to keep moisturizer around these days because your hands get so chapped due to having to wash them all the time. I’ve had to stop wearing the engagement ring you got me because I got a rash under it from all the hand sanitizer I’ve been using . . . and also it doesn’t fit my finger anymore due to my cheese consumption.”
Michael lifted my hand to his lips. “I noticed. I thought you weren’t wearing it because you’d forgotten me.”
“What?” I was shocked. “Never!”
He smiled. “That’s good to know. All that moisturizing has left your hands are nice and soft.”
“You like that, do you?” I asked with a knowing smile.
His smile was just as knowing. “I like it a lot.”
“Would like me to do some more stuff to you with my nice, soft hands?”
“Your hands, and other things. Maybe you’d like me to do the same to do you?”
Stay tuned for more entries from The Corona Princess Diaries coming very soon!