Getting It Done in a Pandemic
Panic at the Grocery Store
Park somewhere far enough away. At least two spaces between you and the nearest car. Wait, not that one. Someone’s getting out of that Honda Fit.
Put it in park. One last look at the list. Don’t want to be fiddling inside, checking your phone, hands in and out of your pockets.
Mask: on. Puff air heavily through the fabric. Look at yourself in the mirror. Strange times. Get hyped, pull at the mask like you’re going to rob a stagecoach. Here we go.
Inside, forget everything and wing it. Get eggs, milk. Check for sugar, grab chicken. Bag vegetables you’ve never eaten. And so much fruit. Like you’re planning a cornucopia at an all-you-can-eat. Oreos if they have them. And cereal and canned stuff and bread. Yogurt tubes and string cheeses. A box of something near checkout.
Stand in a quiet line, spaced six feet apart from the nearest soul.
Watch a cashier through plexiglass use plastic bags, which are now fine.
Push the cart to the car. Use hand sanitizer and open the trunk, then touch all the probably contaminated grocery bags. Put the cart back.
Get in the car. Use hand sanitizer again. Throw your mask on the floor.
Breathe.
Strategic Acquisitions
Neighbor, from her driveway across the street: How are you guys holding up?
Me, from my lawn: We're doing OK! How about you?
N: Doing well, look what I found! [Holds up a gallon-sized bottle.] Lysol!
M: Where did you get that?
N: Walmart! Can you believe it? I've been going around 7:30 before work, and it's been pretty empty. I guess I got lucky!
M: That's great!
N: We've had some trouble finding gluten-free crackers though.
M: I think I've seen them at the market. I'll grab a box if I see them when I go next time!
N: Don't feel like you have to find them though. And if you need some Lysol, just let me know! [shakes bottle]
M: Have a great one!
Rules of the Front Porch
“Ok, so think of it like an airlock. Or a decontamination area. Pan of bleach and water to wipe your shoes, a cleansing mist from above.
“Everything is placed here first. Boxes, bags of groceries, mail. Then it is sorted by need, surface properties, temperature, the number of hands likely to have touched it in the last 72 hours.
“If you are entering the house, you are tainted, dirty, contagious. We over the threshold are pure, safe, unsullied.
“That is the way. You are the unclean hands bearing sustenance, supplies, correspondence. We are the cleaners, the receivers, the curators.
“Present your alms, and we will accept them. We will remove some from their containers, place them around the house, in bowls, bags, drawers. Others we will position out of reach, to air out, until their danger dissipates into the atmosphere.
“And then you will discard the pile of emptied containers from this porch. You will enter this place, and you will wash your hands like they are coated in poison paint.
“Shower and change your clothes if you like. This is your home, after all.”
Zoom
Warn your child 15 minutes ahead of the call that the call is soon. Name the participants.
Repeat at five-minute intervals.
Drag your child by the arm to the camera with 1 minute to go.
Sit him/her in front of the camera.
Fight with the device. Fists, teeth, whispered curses. Model behavior.
Join call. Wait three minutes.
Put on mute.
Threaten child. Or incentivize child. (Dealer's choice.)
Child will seem engaged. Be lulled into a sense of security and pride even. Sit on a nearby couch.
Watch child run off.
Celebrate that this was better than the last one.
Rules and Best Practices
Glasses are better than contact lenses as you don't want to jam virus onto your cornea.
When at a gas station, treat your hands like you're breading chicken. Wet hand is for alien surfaces, dry hand for your things and the hand sanitizer after.
Roll your car windows up at intersections to limit your oxygen and increase your anxiety.
If it looks sketchy, or even just a little too busy, turn around and go home.
Support local breweries because they deliver.
Smile when you can, and remember you never had control anyway.
