Streets are deserted.
Everything is closed.
Traffic is down.
Busses are empty.
But I need food.
I suit up before leaving.
Who would have ever thought that this kind of fashion statement wouldn't get stares?
On the street about half the people out are wearing masks of some kind. In the past, I would have thought they looked ridiculous. Now I think, I wonder where they all got them?
I walk toward a woman coming from the opposite direction. As we pass each other, we both move a little bit further away. Then we smile with acknowledgement — a knowing smile that seems to say, crazy, isn't it?
I go to Butterfields, my favorite small gourmet grocer. I buy three days worth of food.
On the way home, my face itches and I scratch it. Oh no, I think. I can't believe I touched my face. I hope the rain will wash off any germs until I get home and then I'll wash my face with soap, something I never do.
The guy walking more than six feet in front of me sneezes into a tissue. I cross to the other side of the street.
I get home, and immediately wash my hands and face.
I recently read that spandex-like materials may retain germs longer than breathable cotton-based fabrics. So I take off my Lululemon leggings and change into something else.
I unpack my groceries and then wash my hands again. They have never been so clean.
But I am home. The place where I feel safest.
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