Donald Trump Toilet Paper

We’re Down to Our Last Roll – 1.

Shelter-in-place observations, an ongoing chronicle of the plague.

3/18. At the grocery there was no hamburger and they were all out of filet mignon. The in-between stuff, the pork chops and sirloins, were plentiful. I guess that says something about our local population, but I’m not sure what. Also, it seems the local chickens have fallen ill, because there are no eggs. I bought two New York steaks that will last me 5 or 6 days, because I’m a light eater.

The woman at the cash register said I had to bag my own groceries if I wanted to use my reusable bags, she wasn’t supposed to touch them. She wasn’t wearing a mask. I reflected that she probably had one of the most dangerous jobs in town, at this point, and she was making maybe fifteen bucks an hour.

As I bagged my purchases, an old woman behind me in line stepped inside my 6-foot social-distancing perimeter. I pulled out a can of pepper spray and she backed off. You can’t be too careful.

I’ve started wiping down all my groceries as soon as I bring them home, the bags, packages, everything. I unpack them onto a plastic tray, wipe them down with alcohol, put them away. Then I wash the plastic tray down with soap and water, and of course I wash my hands. Tonight I had a pork chop that had been washed with alcohol, but it tasted kind of funny. The one I bleached was worse, though.

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