The Pandemic Blue Plate Special

Like many of you we are working vigorously to limit our exposure to Coronavirus Carey, a descendent of Typhoid Mary.

This is especially important now that our once furloughed daughter (three weeks ago) has been "unfurloughed" and is now back to working in an office, albeit one with a skeletal staff. The fact that they hired her back speaks volumes about the Siegel work ethic.

More importantly, it means I can start charging her rent again.

Also like many of you, we have been using grocery delivery services. Perhaps you've heard of InstaCart. Perhaps you wish you never had.

It is grocery shopping unlike any other experience. My wife and I meticulously go through the available foods on my widescreen computer. We order in bulk, in order to fill our two refrigerators. And then we are assigned a shopper, usually a pre-millineal kid invariably named K-Cube, D-Pac or Stash, who then roams the aisles at Pavilions for our stuff.

Only "our stuff" is never actually on the shelves. Which kicks off a string of text messages from our "shopper", such as...

There's no Ragu Spaghetti Sauce, would you like a jar of Murray's Spicy Garlic Ketchup?

Why, yes, of course we would.

Followed by, there's no Whole Chickens, would you like one of Buck's Free Range Pigeons?

Two, please.

And, there's no Bounty - the quicker picker upper, would you like me to raid the Men's Room and grab the stack of brown army grade paper towels sitting on the sink?

Absolutely.

Then the dude shows up at my doorstep and drops the goodies on the porch. My wife and daughters dutifully wipe it all down with some off brand Florox Wipes and we refill the pantry and the frigerator, so we're set for another week.

And when it's all done, we sigh, collectively, and my wife sarcastically reminds me to add it all to our Gratitude List.