With the craziness in the world lately, I’ve noticed something about myself.

I have been quietly retreating into a small protective bubble. Not in a bunker-building, canned-beans way. More in a pool, beach, book, ignore the news alerts way.

It is a coping strategy.

This past weekend the bubble burst.

Rather than remaining buoyant in the pool, the outside world suddenly weighed me down and pushed me under.

Reality, particularly the orange-tinted variety currently dominating the headlines, has a way of leaking toxic fumes into even the calmest corners of life. Normally I’m quite skilled at turning down the volume on the world’s nonsense.

Saturday, had other ideas.

Costly, annoying, frustrating little events dragged me straight back into the daily grind. Even a swim and some beach time could not fully rinse off the aggravation.

By nightfall, an ice-cold martini infusion was necessary which is ironic because I rarely drink anymore.

Apparently, I am now part of a national trend. Alcohol sales are slumping as many people, especially Gen Z, trade cocktails for non-alcoholic concoctions or adopt what is now charmingly called, “California sober.”

Translation…skip the martini, smoke a joint, or eat a gummy.

Teetotalism is having a moment. Rising health consciousness, studies warning about even moderate drinking, weight-loss drugs that dull the urge for alcohol, and tightening budgets are all contributing.

According to Gallup, only 54% of Americans reported drinking alcohol last year, the lowest number since they started tracking it in 1939 and surveys abroad suggest the trend is global.

Enough of these 2026 truisms.

The real issue is this…Fantasy Island was invaded and that is totally unacceptable.

I am not alone in feeling the breach. While my personal bubble was collapsing, America was busy invading Iran and Ecuador. Cuba and Nigeria may be on deck for the next episode of Geopolitics Gone Wild.

Meanwhile, I have been floating here in my carefully curated bubble sheltered from life’s harsher truths by indulging in comfortable routines and a determined effort to remain blissfully oblivious.

These circumstances now lead me to a new financial planning idea.

Instead of homeowners insurance, I may start investing in PBI (Protective Bubble Insurance).

Frankly, reality is cumbersome and occasionally pain-inducing.

During these challenging times, the only reasonable response is to climb back into the pool, stare at the horizon, and pretend the world will sort itself out while you are not looking (doubtful).