We walk the dogs along the same “safe” routes each day, altering our path should we see people coming our way. This part of Covid-19 life is fine, but trips to the grocery store, say once every ten days, are ordeals for me. Mask on, gloves on, and hand wipes in my pocket–that part is easy. But once in the store I search for items that aren’t there, or when I find something like fresh produce, I wonder how many times has the broccoli been handled. Checking out is like diving into a swimming hole from a cliff–keep the body straight, let the force be with you. Once outside, I have to reconnect with my safety routine. Find car, open door with gloves on. Put groceries on floor. Sit. Take gloves off like a surgeon, inside out. Hand wipes are next. Damn, where’s the plastic bag for disposals? Control breathing. At least there are fewer cars on the road.
At home I close the car door with my knee. Remember, don’t use the car for five days. Gloves and mask are put in the sun for three hours. I know I have violated safety protocol, but don’t specifically know what. Yes, wash hands thoroughly, then unpack food. Wash hands again.
Next, watch a streaming episode of some show where people are falling apart. No news until 5:30 p.m., although I’ve gone online at 7 a.m. to see if there is a vaccine on the horizon. At 7 p.m., make noise for healthcare workers.
I am not stir-crazy….yet. Peace.