It’s pantry rummaging time. Not because I’m low on food and too scared to go out in public. I’m rummaging around my pantry because there is something that happens when an over anxious person is stricken with the onset of cabin fever. I don’t know why, but at lunch yesterday, the hunting and foraging instinct kicked in. I have a profound urge to nest within the safe confines of my home.
Later, as I stood staring out a window, chatting with my manager on the phone as we tried to map out how this, however temporary, new normal will have to work, I saw two small birds in a tree, unperturbed, seemingly staring off into the same distance. They were every bit the picture of a comfortable couple gazing at the view from their back deck. All that was missing were a couple of tiny Adirondacks and itty-bitty glasses of wine.
I found the sight of those two birds very calming in the midst of all the hysteria. Small birds are always flitting about; easily startled, but these two sat on that branch staring off into the distance for almost 10 minutes. It was stormy, so the branches were pitching and swaying, but that didn’t bother either of them. Not a single flutter. It is a scene I think I will remember the rest of my life.
The clam chowder was fine, but truthfully, I needed more provisions, so I ventured out for groceries. I’ve been out and about every day this week, but only for short trips that did not involve being in the proximity of more than a couple of people at a time. A trip to the grocery seemed daunting.
Five o’clock is not the time to go to the grocery store on any day, but I knew that before I headed out, so, given the panic, I packed up a full ration of patience (along with homemade hand sanitizer and latex gloves). Not surprisingly, I had to circle the parking lot several times before landing a spot. The cluster-f**k that ensued when 5 cars vied for 2 spots opening up would usually result in a lot of parking-lot road rage. Not so today. As a community, we are well aware we are in crisis-mode. Every driver assessed their part in the do-si-do and maneuvered accordingly and expediently. It was the most neighborly thing I have ever witnessed.
The store was busy, but “normal” busy. The only difference were the empty shelves. It’s funny what people think is necessary to hord: Flour, eggs, butter, but not so much baking soda, yeast or salt. Frozen meals, of course, but only certain frozen meals. There’d been a run on plastic food storage bags, which seemed odd, and sale items, which seemed logical. And, I just have to say, all that broccoli is going to go bad in just a few days, so folks better eat up.
But Collard Greens? Holy crap! I had my pick! Mushrooms, too. Asparagus. Artichoke. Lettuce. Carrots. Radish. All that was left of the white onions were a few paper skins, but yellow, red onion and shallot were plenty to be had. Berries were picked over, but plenty of apples and oranges. Fish, meat, nuts, tomatoes, juice, cheese, baked desserts…you had your pick. What fascinated me was coffee. There was a lot of coffee.
As I considered buying the 1/2 turkey breast from the rotisserie service (as all the chicken was sold, like, all the chicken. They were completely out of fresh chicken to roast more), I heard a shopper curse under his breath that the salami slices were sold out. The neighborly demonstration in the parking lot inspired me to pay it forward. I suggested he get a 1/4 lb. at the deli counter. Poor guy had to take a moment to process. He’d never considered the deli counter before. He smiled and thanked me. As I moved along to the check out, I heard him ask, “How much is a pound?” A pound?! Wow.