I am not a great shopper, but of late the activity has become more appealing because it requires a trip out of the house. Groceries have to be bought.
In this new world, I need a map. What stores are open to seniors only? What are the hours, waiting lines and likely number of customers? And of course there is the lottery for the toilet paper.
This worldwide ailment has many of us climbing the walls. There’s a general feeling of restlessness. My children watch me like a hawk, and I get daily warnings about the dangers that lurk beyond my property boundaries.
I have received some strange deliveries: toilet paper left on my front porch, no human contact; milk in bottles and eggs that need washing from a local farmer; a weekly surprise dinner from a local restaurant which left me with a takeout menu that includes cocktails like Mojito with white rum and fresh mint. How these are dispensed?
Hot-coffee foam containers just don’t seem right. And I have never seen a “to go” cocktail container. Maybe it is something I have missed. I have an extensive collection of booze, so it is not likely I will be ordering this kind of thirst-quenchers any time soon.
My children, concerned for my welfare, ordered groceries delivered to me. My list must have confused the designated shopper. I got three jars of mayonnaise, each a slightly different variety, enough fresh dog food to overstuff my dog for a week, two 18-inch zucchini that looked like skinny watermelons, a container of Make Believe Butter enough to last a year, two gallons of milk, and the biggest bag of oranges one could carry.
I certainly can do with odd or different ingredients. Mayonnaise is just eggs and oil, easy to incorporate this into most recipes. Zucchinis can be stuffed, and squeezed oranges flavor almost any spirits.
I did discover that daytime TV can numb your brain and find you mixing Oreo cookies and Coors Light.
Staying home all day makes me aware of the squirrels that invade my feeders. They love those black-oil sunflower seeds, but unlike birds they want mouthfuls at a time and thus chew holes in the feeders lining my deck. After stuffing their cheeks to overflowing, they carry those away to their pantries all over my back yard. I have acquired a totally black squirrel to add to the scurry of a dozen or so that invade my valley.
My dog Sky keeps fit chasing these varmints. They return again and again.
Another new addition to my yard, a woodchuck, arrived just as this epidemic started. This marmot is also called a whistle pig or land beaver, depending on what part of the country you are from. I am hoping that this one might be a female; I would enjoy seeing youngsters frolicking in my back yard. Do woodchucks frolic?
My housebound predicament gives me lots of time to check out my yard, the front lawn. Much of it is sparse and scruffy. The robins, looking fat and sassy, still find it a great takeaway restaurant and invade it early in the day. I recently read that robins often winter deep in swamps. I live near a large wetland. I have yet to see a shivering robin in winter.
As I was finishing this article, I got a wonderful call. A friend is having a distance party. You must bring your own lawn chair, your own booze and your snack of choice. It will be a lawn party, six-foot distance, no touching. It will be a group of the finest people I know and love, folks I never knew how important they were in my life. I am as excited as a kid on their birthday.
My wish to all you helping in the war to keep others safe, thank you. My grandmother told me that faith was seeing the light with your heart when all your eyes see is darkness. Watch for the light, my friends.
Join the family! 
