… Mask, who are you? or the whole truth about shopping during the pandemic…
Sunday shopping turned into a surreal and perilous adventure with the ever-changing game rules. Store opening hours are unpredictable, and you can see signs with the new rules at the entrance only.
Inside, people in masks, and some in gloves, shy away from each other, their shopping carts catching on shelves. Peering into the masks, I try to see the familiar pattern. How many of them did I sew during the pandemic?
I catch a pair of puzzled eyes on me. “Is there something wrong with the makeup?” The amount of mascara on my lashes can hardly be called makeup, the rest of my face is under the mask. Oh, I see, the arrow under my feet indicates that I’m moving in the wrong direction. Oops, Sorry.
And now it’s my turn to roll the eyes: “Who let this woman in here without a mask?” The sight of an open face causes a feeling of anxiety. Let’s move to another aisle away from her.
No, no more reading labels on packages. The list of groceries from the sheet of paper moved to the cart. It’s time to go to the cash register and outside, to the masks-free, slightly humid, but fresh air. I will escape from people and the virus in the body of my little vehicle and retire home.
There is no place like home.
What is your truth=feelings about shopping?
