“Pretending life is normal; going grocery shopping” was my post on social media. Our list wasn’t terribly long, and we had Petunia’s list, too.
First surreal experience: grocery worker sanitizing carts. Stores used to make cleaning wipes available, but now they actually put a staff person in charge of wiping down each cart as it returns to the store. We grabbed two – one for our own load, and a small one for Petunia’s.
Second surreal experience: bread shelf empty. Kind of odd, really. It was only one shelf, the store brand on special. There was plenty of stock in the higher end, good quality breads and buns.
Next surreal encounter: people wearing masks. I can’t say there were a lot, but I also can’t say there were only a few. Most, but not all, were elderly. “Smart,” I thought, and then wondered if I should mask up for trips out of the house. I’m not elderly, but I am senior.
The next empty shelf observation: pastas, sauces, especially spaghetti sauces. We keep a pretty good stockpile of pastas purchased when they go on sale; most of our tomato sauces are homemade. I’m out of homemade sauce at the moment, but we still have jarred tomatoes. I can make a sauce if we need one.
That’s one of my fallback strategies and a decision-maker at the store. If we run out, can I make it? If so, I won’t worry about it. Bread; I can make it. Spaghetti sauce; I can make it. Lettuce; I can grow it, but not yet.
Oh, heck. I’m going to plant a container of lettuce seeds. When, er, If the supply chain collapses, I’ll still have bunny food.
Eggs by the dozen: sold out. We bought a package of 18; actually a better deal than the dozens. Sliced cheese; all sold out except the organic. Petunia wanted some, so I bought her a small package.
The checkout was interesting, too. Plexiglass barrier between cashier and customers. Signs on the floor “Wait Here” about 6 feet apart. Chuck had to bag our own groceries because we brought our own bags. (It’s okay; he’s good at it.)