Inventory

Elaine and I went shopping this morning, the first time we’ve been in a store, and the first time we’ve been anywhere but on a walk, since March 13th. We went to what grocery snoots would call the “better” supermarket, which now reserves two hours in the early morning for people over sixty, all on the honor system. So we put on our nitrile gloves and shopped.

When the kids flew the nest and we became once again a household of two, we drifted back to the citified shopping habits of our earlier years — picking up a few things every day, a piece of fish for dinner, a lemon, asparagus, and so on. This morning we spent more than $300. Many groceries. I should note that the “better” supermarket is also, by far, the more expensive supermarket. But we were willing to pay for the convenience of shopping in a nearly empty store. And we tipped our cashier and bagger mightily. I suspect that many people are doing so.

What was missing? Only a handful of items: flour, ice cream, toilet paper, American cheese, and frozen vegetables. These items weren’t entirely gone: there were still containers of Ben and Jerry’s, some Kraft Singles, some scattered vegetables. The toilet-paper aisle still had one four-roll package. I’m guessing that many a shopper thought twice and put it back on the shelf for someone who really, really needs it.

Which reminds me of a never-fail comedy moment whenever I did a big shopping expedition with the kids on Sunday afternoons (as Elaine ran the classical hours on the university FM station). As we hit the appropriate aisle, I’d ask, “Who needs toilet paper?” “Me! Me!”