COVID19: March 18, 2020 - Dodging Landmines

Have you ever watched one of those movies about the zombie apocalypse? You’re on high alert the whole time because you know that out of nowhere something horrific is about to jump up and scare the bejeebers out of you, and just as soon as you let down your guard, that’s when it’s gonna happen. I felt like that this morning when I ventured out of the house for the first time in nearly a week.

As long as I was going out, I planned to get as much done as possible: grocery store, church, pharmacy, podiatrist, home. No problem. 

I hadn't foreseen all the landmines that were waiting for me along the way.

I decided to leave my purse at home because I would be inclined to toss it into the grocery cart, and God knows what evil lurks inside a grocery cart. I mean, really, I wiped off the hand-bar—three times, but not the rest of the cart. What about the rest of the cart? Then there are the groceries themselves. Who’s been handling those jars and cans and packages? Workers were meticulously cleaning off the shelves, but what about the groceries--you know, the things I was about to take into my own home?

When it came time to check out, there it was. A true monster, if ever there was one. The PIN pad! Eeek! How many people had punched in PIN #s with their germy little fingers without the keys being cleaned? Lord, get me out of here ASAP, so I can get to my car and Purell my hands!

And my card was declined. Of course, without my purse, I came with my driver’s license and one credit card in my pocket. And my one and only card was declined. So, I had to go home to get another one. While I was there, I called Bank of America and learned that there was no reason why my card was declined. And now I had to return to the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

After finally picking up my groceries, I made a trip to the church to leave off food for ACTC (our local food pantry) and pick up a few things I needed at home: sanitizing wipes (why waste them at the church when no one was there?), ball mouse for my computer and cards to send people notes in our time of social distancing (which I now expect to continue for months). 

My next stop was Walgreen’s. I recently read somewhere that if you get COVID19, you need to take Tylenol. I’m an Advil person and had no Tylenol in my medicine cabinet. So, I picked up my Tylenol and made my way to the check-out line. 

A woman was at the counter with the cashier. I waited, a good 10 feet away. She was looking at earbuds. The cashier got them out of the package for the shopper to see if they were what she had in mind. Both women handled the ear buds, held them up to their ears, etc. The shopper decided she didn’t want them. So, the cashier carefully returned them to the package and placed them back on the shelf. As I watched this in disbelief, multiple fire alarms were blaring in my brain. No! No! No! I had to look away. (And was relieved to see five people in line behind me, all keeping a safe distance.)

I continued to wait while the woman paid for her stuff. When she was done, she slid about 1.5 feet to her right and proceeded to count her cash and dig through her purse for who-knows-what. The cashier motioned for me to step forward. “Is she finished?” I asked, pointing to the woman who was before me.

“Yes, she’s done,” she told me. 

“I’ll wait until she steps away,” I explained.

Then the woman turned to me and said, “It’s okay. I’m not afraid of you.” WHAT!??!

“You don’t understand,” I told her. “I’m afraid of YOU!” She looked a bit insulted. “I’m trying to do my part and keep a safe distance. I’ll just wait until you’re done,” I said. 

She proceeded to dig in her purse while I waited. Mind you, she had lots of room to move along at the counter, which was at least 20 feet long, so she could take care of whatever it was she had to do. But she stood her ground and didn’t budge. It was kind of like when you’re stopped at a traffic light, and the person in the car behind you honks the split second the light turns green, and you decide to take your good ol’ sweet time before moving, just to piss them off even more. (C’mon. We’ve all done it.) She was clearly being stubborn and making some some sort of a point. Finally, she moved on and I approached the cashier. 

Of course, my transaction involved another PIN pad! And I was freaking out! 

The thing about those zombie apocalypse movies is that the feeling of being on high alert subsides after you leave the movie theater and go home. After my little excursion today, I returned home, but that feeling remains. Even from the safety of my home, I feel like I’m living inside a zombie apocalypse movie that never ends.