Snippets From Another Day in Pandemica

I'm reading Viet Thanh Nguyen's  The Sympathizer as an e-book.... or at least I'm trying to read it.  Unfortunately, I forgot to plug in the iPad overnight and there wasn't enough juice in its innards to turn on.  

I could have read it on Lenore the Lenovo, but it seemed like too much trouble.  It's been that kind of a week.

***** 

CVS sent me an alert that my prescription was ready and waiting.  Michael's finally had soft pink yarn in stock, thus fulfilling one of FlapJilly's requirements for a winter hat.  My hard cover copy of the latest in James Lee Burke's saga of drink, drama, crime, and passion was ready to be returned from whence it came - the library. 

I had a full fledged adventure awaiting me.

*****

The yarn was texting me to come and pick it up almost before it texted that the order had been received.  I watched a masked mom and two little ones marching into the store as my masked delivery person placed the bag through the open window behind me.  

I think she said something to me, but in my haste to put on my brand new mask I had to sacrifice my hearing aids.  The intersection between ears, assistive devices, and mask elastic is an under-reported consequence of living in Pandemica.

*****

The pharmacist and I laughed when I paused before recalling my birthdate.  It was a novel question.  I haven't experienced a novel question in a long time; it took me a nano-second to get my brain in position to answer her. 

Accepting my delight over intersecting with another human being, she told me that I could come back and visit anytime.

*****

I paused in the parking lot and called ahead to order lunch. 

No, I didn't want to come in and pick it up, I wanted him to bring it out to my car........just as they have been doing since the beginning of Pandemica.... and yes, he returned after a brief pause, in fact he would be delighted to bring it out to me, having just learned a new policy at his new job.

*****

I stopped at the library, only to find that my usual stop-here-for-15-seconds-while-I-drop-this-through-the-slot space was now clearly marked NO PARKING OR STANDING.  I found a spot, locked The Uv, and approached the return slot.  

I knew that I should not offer the book to the librarian at the outdoor table; santization procedures precluded that tiny bit of human contact.  Once dropped through the slot, the book would remain untouched for three days before being recirculated.  

My problem was the line - three masked patrons, socially distant but definitely in line, a line which stretched between me and the return slot.  There was no way to approach the box while remaining socially distant.  I examined the situation from all angles and then plunged ahead.

I'm sorry, excuse me, I don't know the etiquette for this came babbling out of my mouth as the line morphed into an amoeba to accommodate my intrusion.  The woman last in line eye-smiled as she followed me, at a socially appropriate distance, to do the same thing. 

She said that she didn't know what to do, either.

Emily Post didn't tell us about this we agreed as we left.  

*****

Arriving at Grumpy's, I left the money under the windshield wipers and called Del, who came right out and made the exchange.  When he got to the door, I popped out and picked up the bag, thanked him vociferously while complimenting his mask, and promised to see him next week.  

*****

It was an exhilarating experience.  I didn't have to get out of my car.  I was safely separated from everyone I encountered.  I enjoyed every moment.  I was present, mindful, noticing and paying attention to the details in a way that I don't think I did before Pandemica.

As the pharmacist and I mused, sharing a moment, there are some good things that are coming out of this time.  

I'm going to hold onto that thought tonight.