Meijer and the CDC blues

PANDEMIC UPDATES: 

1. Michigan now requires face masks in all indoor public places, by law. I know this because Meijer told me so via a 3' folding A-frame sign, aaaannnddd a bouncer standing behind said sign, presumably to enforce said sign.

and by "bouncer" I mean an anemic, anorexic, meth-addict, who sips slim-fasts all day. #Icouldtakehim #💪🏼 #butIwont #playingbytherules

2. for the past 4 months these items on my grocery list have been AWOL. 

*antibacterial wipes

*isopropyl alcohol

*kippered snacks (quick protein source, don't judge)

*Dave's bread

*Vitamin D gummies 

*vinyl gloves (my fave kitchen gadget for dealing with meat, don't judge)

each item listed has an evenly aligned, negative-space (artsy lingo for 'empty') row, fronted with a plastic Meijer-font description + price, but no actual item to seal the deal. 

week after week feels like Meijer just shrugs at these items and thinks, "meh, they won't notice. let's stock up on packets of turkey gravy instead."

3. the superstore feels a bit... exhausted. 

all the happy little blue and white footprint floor stickers, giving me an exact 6' guesstimate where to queue-up, are now worn, torn, or reduced to a circle smudge of sticky. so now, Mr. Coughing Through My Turtleneck feels more like 6" away. 

the greeters hope I think they're smiling behind the masks, but the eyes don't lie. and all the antibacterial wipes they hand out, become dried pieces of litter all over the store, carts, and the parking lot-- egads! it just hit me--no wonder there aren't any wipes on the shelves!

4. I forgot my AirPods today, so I got to "experience" a pandemic background playlist. 

it sucks. when did grocery shopping become so moody, so slow-jam, so I got the blues, with a dose of reality hit-list of rules and regs from the CDC? 

*sigh* I never thought I would pine so hard for the perky tunes of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, Danke Schoen, or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

gotta be honest, I'm ending this post searching for a bright side, a silver-lining, and all I can come up with is...

won't have to go back to the superstore for another 10 days 😟, and 🤞🏼 that a vaccine comes out in 9. #remembertheairpods

Meijer and the what if—?! panic

living in COVID-19 Michigan means the quarantine-life has been going on for 40 days, and we get to look forward to (at least) 20 more. 

I've decided to play by the rules on this one-- not my typical adventurous, devil-may-care attitude, mostly because I keep getting this image in my head...

 
that's me, a knife at my throat and COVID-19 screaming-- "never go against a pandemic when death is on the line!" *maniacal laughter*

so, once every 10 days I take my SUV (gas tank still 7/8 full--40 days!!!) to the superstore to restock groceries and other necessities. I choose Meijer for the mostly-reliable one-stop shopping, or as we like to say in Michigan, "one-stop = minimal exposure shopping." #favesaying

sheesh. gonna be honest, this pandemic is messing with my grocery game. yeah, I create meticulous lists, you bet'cha. but all checked-twice-list bets are off when I walk through the superstore's "airlock." (⬅️ that word(!) doesn't live up to it's hype. #pandemicstandards)

It feels like I live a dual pandemic-panic shopping life:
rational me: sticks religiously to my list
vs.
irrational me: spies a fishing pole, and thinks, "I don't have this... what if the pandemic gets so bad that I have to start fishing?!" 

before you know it, I'm wedging a rod, reel and fluorescent lures (big enough to tempt Free Willy) between two dozen eggs, coconut milk, a box of those posh "fireplace" matches, the what-if-we-lose-power?! hibachi, and a pair of what-if-there's-a-flood?! hip-waders.

the rational-me list, firmly gripped in my left hand, snaps me back. I review the cart's contents, giving each item a serious rethink.

I discard the posh matches. #frivolous 

I rededicate myself to my list, and head to Pharmacy for some Vitamin D gummies. 

I flatly ignore aisle after aisle of reading glasses, canes, wrist bandages, foot supports/powder, allergy relief, no-pooping relief, back pain relief; judiciously resisting each of their what if—?! arguments. 

I am nearly passed the last fill-in-the-blank body part pain relief. I'm thisclose to reaching the wall of gummy vitamin delights when-- 

I stop dead in my tracks. evolutionary instincts take over; with my peripheral vision I watch my phone-hand raise, thumb hovers over the camera button...

*click*




honestly, I have no idea what I've discovered. clearly, I can read, but never, ever(!) have I seen the words "EAR" and "Candles" paired together-- much less packaged with a set of sketchy directions, and a photo of a human with a candle sticking out of her head. 

the longer I stare at this cock-eyed (cock-eared?) product, rational thought slips away, replaced with my irrational evil-twin; "what if the pharmacy runs out of the prescription stuff of whatever this does?!" 

the scientific claims on the packaging come into focus:
"naturally relaxing" 
me: eyes flit back to the photo, "oohhh, she's relaxed! not in a meds-induced coma."

"handcrafted beeswax candles" 
me: "a gold clip-art graphic official seal. seems legit."

"Luxury Collection"
me: "gasp, and only $8.99." 

again, I take inventory of my cart. 

I rethink the eggs.