Publix, Toilet Paper and Social Distancing

Went to the local Publix this morning. Cleaned my hands with sanitizer before leaving the car. Saw an employee pushing carts inside. She wore rubber gloves. A man at the service counter welcomed me into the store. One could almost assume from his cheery greeting that normality still reigned.

Went straight to the paper products aisle and saw paper towels, facial tissues and…and…TOILET PAPER at the end. A large woman piloted a motorized cart down the middle blocking my passage toward bathroom bliss. I managed to sidestep her but had to hold my breath as I passed through the air space she’d just tainted with a cough. I picked up a 9-pack of mega roll Charmin.

Also found eggs and white flour but no yeast. A few days ago, I would have exulted in getting just the toilet paper, but the mood in the store compressed happy feelings until they disappeared with a piff. Maybe it was the hush. Folks didn’t stop to chat or ask a clerk a question. They rushed about as if caught in a trap. Where’s the exit? Where’s the exit?

Noticed that some folks wore gloves, some masks, and some both. The cautious ones had been scattered about the store the last time I shopped. Now about a quarter had taken steps to ward off contamination. Whenever I turned a corner and unexpectedly encountered a shopper, we both shied away as if we’d blundered upon a leper. Eyes didn’t meet eyes. But we gave each other side-long glances to judge the nearest person’s state of health.

Maintained a six foot distance from an old couple in line ahead of me at the check-out. The lady looked over her shoulder to check whether I had crept closer. Her husband breezily chatted up the cashier. He asked when she’d be getting a sneeze-guard at the register. The cashier shrugged and said, “I don’t know when, but it’s only going to come this high.” She held her hand about five feet off the ground. “It’s not going to do any good,” she concluded. The man maintained good cheer. He thanked her and her colleagues for the job they were doing. She replied graciously.

The cashier ran through my groceries slowly. I remembered that she plodded at her job but was amiable. She got to the pile of meat and said, “You’ve got three packages of chicken here.” I said, “Is there a limit? I didn’t see a sign.” The meat aisle had been fully stocked. She said, “We had a limit of two packs per kind of meat. We ran out of beef. Then it was the chicken. But maybe they got a load in and took down the sign. Let’s just pretend they did.” She gave me a warm smile and rang up all the chicken. Almost fell in love with her.

Cleaned my hands with sanitizer after I loaded the bags into the car. Unpacked the groceries in the kitchen where I washed the washable in soapy water. Used a sanitary wipe to clean the outside of boxes. Started lunch: boiled one chicken breast in a pot and braised the other in a skillet. I decided to make peas and reheated garlic noodles to go with the braised chicken.

Retreated to my bedroom to play solitaire for a few minutes. Before disappearing I told Judy, “I’m gonna crash for a bit. Publix was stressful.”

Judy gave me a sympathetic look and said, “It was.”