JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

My days have begun to blur into each other: I have to check my phone to see what day is. It’s only been 4 days, 13 percent of our communal sentence.

I remembered an essay about the voyage of Magellan and how scurvy (severe vitamin C deficiency; adjective: scorbutic) not only caused sailors’ bodies to disintegrate in a gross manner, but also came with a morbid heightening of the senses. Which could account for those bizarro tales of mermaids and giants in seafaring chronicles. As I was running low on fruit and vegetables (i.e. zero), I decided to venture out of total lockdown for the first time. The nearest supermarket is in Rockwell, a kilometer and a half away.

Let me tell you, I have never been so thrilled to go to the supermarket. For added vitamin D I set out just after 11 am in the blazing sunshine. There were just two people walking my route: a guy with a shopping bag and a motorcyclist carrying his bike up an overpass. The stray cats were pleased to see me; I noted that other people had left kibble for them as well. If only elective officials gave as much thought to their constituents in need as animal welfare volunteers give stray cats and dogs. You cannot toss the tired old “Why do you take care of cats when there are so many people in need?” charge at animal welfare volunteers: there is no contest, they care for both. Also, look what happened during the points in history when people destroyed cat populations: rats bred at will, spreading plague.

Power Plant Mall was eerily deserted, like a scene from 28 Days Later. It was so surreal, I shot a video on my phone as I followed the designated path to the basement. To observe social distancing, only 30 people at a time were allowed to shop. The rest waited on chairs set 4 feet apart (should be 6 feet, but everyone was wearing a mask and for some reason avoided even eye contact) all the way to the end of the floor. Very considerate, I thought, as I took a seat. I snapped a picture of the polite queue, whereupon the woman in front of me whipped her head around and asked me if I was taking a video. I said I had taken a picture and showed it to her—only her back from the shoulders down was in it, and anyway I would’ve blurred all the faces. She said to delete it, and I did. These days people get cancelled and shamed for buying too much food, though no one in line had actually bought food yet. Wait, maybe she was famous. Then the senior lady in front of her said this queue was for senior citizens so I apologized and moved to the end of the line.

My perception of time is changing: it seems to be moving faster, or is it because each unit of time is minuscule next to the hundreds of thousands of hours I have existed? Scarcely had I texted my friend to GET OFF THE SOCIAL MEDIA (Have you noticed how the sosyal people are more nervous?) for the sake of his sanity when I was moving to the middle of the queue. And I had just texted hello to a friend I hadn’t seen in 4 years (I have been getting in touch with everyone, I have lots of time) when it was my turn to get a shopping cart. (Gloves, people.)

Thus, I bought lettuce for the first time ever. Don’t judge me, I have the eating habits of an 11-year-old. I wanted to hug every grocery worker, stockperson and cashier for coming to work, but observed social distancing rules so I just thanked them. I got oranges, Yakult, and my luxury item: cheese. As Von noted, this is what we’ve come to: discussing what we ate.