And Then, Whole Foods

I was excited to go.  Unlike my first two excursions, there was no anxiety.  I had a smile on my face when I announced my intentions and I was grinning all the way there.  Making all the green lights was just an added bonus. 

I should have remembered to worry.

Of all the awful parking lots in Tucson, this is the worst.  Even emptier than I'd ever seen it on a Tuesday afternoon it was terrible.  I took a spot to avoid on-coming traffic and hailed the young woman with Whole Foods credentials who was walking by.  Yes, if I bagged my own groceries I could use my own bag.

I masked up, grabbed the big blue soft sided igloo, and stepped onto the walkway..... where I was immediately confronted by two young white guys who were buff and unmasked, walking my way, chatting up a storm.  I hung back, but then I woman behind me was on my tail.  I sighed (mentally) and plowed ahead.

The sanitized carts were where the carts usually sat.  I waited as the he-men put on the masks an employee provided, passed by the plexiglass encased temperature check station (for staff only), and there was the produce department, just like it always was.  

I didn't want to browse, but I was helpless. Apparently, so were the other women of a certain age, none of whom seemed the least bit interested in maintaining any sort of social distance.  It was a start and stop situation, with me doing most of the zigging and zagging.

Obviously, there is a rhythm to grocery shopping in Pandemica.  Equally obvious was the fact that I missed the training session.

It was lovely to choose my own chicken breasts at the butcher counter.  I was delighted to ask the bakery kid to slice my ciabatta.  I wasn't that thrilled with all the people walking by, perusing the merchandise right under my elbow.  Once again, I was on a dance floor without knowing the steps.

I stood back at the cash registers, waited until the woman in front of me was finished, then unloaded my cart.  And there they were, another couple of a certain age, angling their cart so that he could stand right next to me in line.  

It's 6 feet, not 6 inches...... but I bit my tongue, moved to the other end of the cart, and continued unloading.  I left the cart there, effectively enforcing social distancing, and smiled at the cashier as he pulled it down to the end of his aisle where I stood packing my own big bag.  

They kept getting closer and closer.  I left it there on purpose.  

I know.  I saw them. 

It's my first time back in the store in a year.  There are a lot of people......

His smile and nod and sympathetic eyes told the rest of the story.  I wasn't the first person he'd encountered with the same face I had .... deer in the headlights, overwhelmed but bearing up, happy to be out but ready to be home.

I left my cart with the garbed-head-to-toe-in-plastic sanitizer girl and her wand of magic spray goop and drove home as safely and quickly as I could.  

There's a wide world out there.  Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

Who knows what tomorrow will bring?