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- Seen Apr 19, 2024
It's early. Yesterday it was raining at this time, but when I step outside today, the sun stings my eyes. I like it.
Streets are more empty than usual. The virus has everybody on edge, and people don't go out unless they have to. Which is silly, really. The outdoors isn't dangerous, only the people you meet there.
As I walk down the street towards the bridge, I only meet two others. One unlucky dog owner who has to brave the dangers of the outside world daily because his pet isn't the kind to shit in a box. I'm happy I have cats.
The other is a coworker of mine. We cross paths on the middle of the bridge, but only nod briefly to each other. It would be nice to exchange pleasantries, to ask why he's out and about, perhaps smalltalk about how working from home is going. But his mind is clearly focused elsewhere, as he hardly even notices me until we're right next to each other. So, a quick nod it is.
I soon reach my destination, the sliding doors opening without me needing to touch a button and risk my hands getting contaminated. A few more people enter my vision, looking up as I enter. I am, after all, very early. I have to be.
My feet move on their own, a well known path through the aisles. The shelves aren't well stocked, but the only things that are really running out already are flour and yeast. Social distancing seems to really have gotten people into baking their own bread.
Finally, I find what I came for. Before me, rows upon rows with soft, white, bottomly respite line up. I grab six packages, as much as I can possibly carry.
I don't really know why I do this. I just know that I need to. Everybody else is, after all, except they apparently like to sleep longer than I do. Lucky me.
I did this yesterday too. And the day before.
Because, when the crisis really, finally strikes, I need to be ready. And the universal truth that everybody knows these days is that the best way to protect your future, is with a cellar full of toilet paper.
:)
Streets are more empty than usual. The virus has everybody on edge, and people don't go out unless they have to. Which is silly, really. The outdoors isn't dangerous, only the people you meet there.
As I walk down the street towards the bridge, I only meet two others. One unlucky dog owner who has to brave the dangers of the outside world daily because his pet isn't the kind to shit in a box. I'm happy I have cats.
The other is a coworker of mine. We cross paths on the middle of the bridge, but only nod briefly to each other. It would be nice to exchange pleasantries, to ask why he's out and about, perhaps smalltalk about how working from home is going. But his mind is clearly focused elsewhere, as he hardly even notices me until we're right next to each other. So, a quick nod it is.
I soon reach my destination, the sliding doors opening without me needing to touch a button and risk my hands getting contaminated. A few more people enter my vision, looking up as I enter. I am, after all, very early. I have to be.
My feet move on their own, a well known path through the aisles. The shelves aren't well stocked, but the only things that are really running out already are flour and yeast. Social distancing seems to really have gotten people into baking their own bread.
Finally, I find what I came for. Before me, rows upon rows with soft, white, bottomly respite line up. I grab six packages, as much as I can possibly carry.
I don't really know why I do this. I just know that I need to. Everybody else is, after all, except they apparently like to sleep longer than I do. Lucky me.
I did this yesterday too. And the day before.
Because, when the crisis really, finally strikes, I need to be ready. And the universal truth that everybody knows these days is that the best way to protect your future, is with a cellar full of toilet paper.
:)