Grocery Shopping in the Age of the COVID

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, grocery shopping got weird. Now it's the new normal. But in the beginning, it got weird fast.

The first week of social distancing, prior to Idaho's statewide stay-at-home order, I was asked by the grocery clerk, "You got any big plans today?"

I paused in confusion.

"I'm just going to hang out at home?" I answered uncertainly.

"Maybe I should come up with a better question for a while," he admitted.

Around that time, grocery shopping became more and more apocalyptic every week. I started to stress out about going to the store not because I was unwilling to change but because I didn't want to break the rules.

At first, a few customers wore masks but most didn't. At this time, the workers weren't didn't even wear masks or gloves, but several of them wandered around the grocery store, carrying spray bottles.

Within a week, I spotted several masks, and all the workers wore gloves. The clerks didn't wear masks, but Plexiglass guards had been installed at each cash register, and stickers on the ground ordered shoppers to stand six feet apart.

For the next few weeks, due to my increasing workload, my husband did the grocery shopping.

By the time my husband, Dan, started grocery shopping, customers had been asked to wear masks. Also, the store aisles were set up with one-way traffic.

SIDEBAR: In the Treasure Valley, people vary in compliance as far as what they are willing to do to mitigate risk. The customers who frequent our local grocery store are fairly considerate compared to some of the other "BUT MY RIGHTS" weirdos in this state.

After school got out for summer break, I took over the grocery shopping again.

"I don't want to do anything wrong," I said to Dan before I headed out the door. I just know I am going to go the wrong way down a one-way aisle."

"You won't be the only one," Dan said.

"What?!" I exclaimed indignantly. "People need to follow the rules!"

"I am sure you'll be judging people more than they will judge you," he added.

Dan was right.

I judged the guy trying to pass me while I was giving someone some space as they rolled past me in the opposite direction. I am proud to say I successfully blocked the guy so that he too was forced to give that person space.

I also judged the elderly gentleman heading the wrong way down the one-way aisle.

Neither of them were wearing masks. Both were men. I silently judged them for that too.

P.S. It's not that difficult to wear a mask. You get used to it. Stop caring so much about what you look like. It doesn't infringe on your rights anymore than wearing pants. And for the love of God, please wear pants!

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Things That Happened (Still) At Home This Week

Nowadays, I'm mostly at home, and you know what? Funny/self-deprecating stuff still happens at home.

For example . . .

I was in the bedroom when I heard my husband, Dan, wander into the kitchen.

"I'm going pee!" I called to him because . . . I can't remember why. I'm realizing now that this was a weird thing for me to do.

Dan walked to the bedroom door, and I noticed he was wearing his Bluetooth earpiece.

"Are you in a meeting?!" I asked, horrified.

He nodded, "I hope I'm still on mute."

I spent most of this week singing a song about going to the zoo. If you had been at my house (no offense, but you're not invited at this time), you would have heard the zoo song in multiple Google Meet classes and on my Facebook Live singalong.

Friday afternoon, Dan came out of the office singing—you guessed it—the zoo song.

"♪♪ How about you, you, you ♪♪"

Around December, I had a recurrence of tennis elbow. In my case, I refer to it as "musician's or conductor's elbow." This particular bout has lasted a long time. The last few days, it has radiated into my wrist and hand, making it difficult to type on a keyboard or play guitar and piano, all major parts of my work-from-home job.

I should probably see a doctor about it sometime.

"Or it could be cancer," I say on a daily basis.

"It's not cancer," is Dan's standard reply.

Friday night, I melted down.

"My hand and wrist and elbow hurt soooo much, and I can't play my instruments the way I want, and I also have canker sores on my upper and lower lips [unrelated to the tennis elbow]," I cried to Dan. "And I don't want to take up a doctor's time because other people are suffering with the COVID, and I can barely make it without my dominant arm. I'm such a wimp!"

Don't worry, everyone. The next day was better. I'll be fine.

On a happier note . . .

Dan stayed up LATE one night this week to help overseas colleagues with a project. The following afternoon, Dan's boss had his favorite beer and Crumbl cookies delivered to our house.

Dan was so surprised and frazzled by the other living beings at our door that when the delivery guy asked for his ID, Dan stared at him blankly, "What?"

"He needs to see your driver's license," I called from the couch (where I was icing my arm). "He is carding you because we look so young."

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That Time Idaho Had an Earthquake and a Pandemic at the Same Time

I've been so busy writing about my hilarious social distancing experiences that I haven't had time to recount that time Idaho had an Earthquake in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. On the last day of March, Idaho had a 6.5 magnitude earthquake near Stanley, and lots of us felt it.

I was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. At first, I thought a large truck was driving by our house until I noticed the cabinets rattling and the light swinging over the kitchen table. Oh, and the ground underneath me felt like ocean waves.

"Umm . . . Dan?" I called.

My husband, Dan, was already running into the living room, "We're having an earthquake! Cool!"

He stayed right by the windows the entire time (not what they teach us to do in school, by the way) because he wanted to watch our house move around. I surreptitiously scooted to the nearest door frame . . . away from all the windows.

"Oh man! I wish I grabbed my camera!" Dan said as the ceiling fan shook over his head.

Then I took to Facebook:

"An earthquake?! In Boise? It is totally the end of the world, guys!" I posted.

"It is," commented a good friend of mine. "I thought my treadmill was having a seizure at first. Then I realized it was just impending doom."

She also wondered: First the COVID plague. Are locusts next?

I told her they had already arrived.

"I should have learned to can. And sew," she sighed.

"Same . . . And forget about stocking up on TP. I mean, I could probably learn to live without if I have to."

"Soon, it won’t matter . . . dun Dun DUN!"

"Meanwhile, Dan is filling out a questionnaire about the earthquake because he is contributing to citizen science. Nerd," I said.

"Of course he is." Then she added, "I mean, I CAN out run an earthquake."

"I've got my mad First Aid skills!" I told her.

"This ain’t kickball, kids. The locusts are coming! #teamlocust"

"And a tornado hit in Washington," another friend chimed in.

The next day, it snowed in Boise. It was April 1. I wasn't surprised. Thus far, 2020 has been one big April Fool's Day joke.

"So . . . snow now?" I posted on Facebook.

"Did you expect anything less?" that same friend asked.

"Better than locusts, I guess."
 
On the last day of April, Boise had a crazy thunderstorm with hail, lightning strikes, trees falling down, and fences toppling over.

It makes me wonder what May 31 has in store.

A local musician thought he might have jinxed Idaho when he recorded a song at the Mount Borah Fault Line the day of the quake. The song is called "Volcano," and, yes, it's about an earthquake.

(DISCLAIMER: I didn't really believe the earthquake was ushering in the Apocalypse, but apparently some people did. I've heard stories . . . )

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