Let me preface this little piece with the caveat that you may need to be a man of a well experienced age to fully appreciate it… or perhaps to relate to it.
Yesterday I was part of the problem. I was not practicing social distancing by staying at home. I had to go out to a couple stores for what were, only by stretching it a far piece, necessities. I was out of vodka so I needed to hit the liquor store, and I wanted to buy some paint. My ADHD wife is getting a wee antsy in the house, and she was looking for a project to keep her busy. For some reason, she thought painting the trim inside the house was the ticket. Being a kind and thoughtful husband, I said, “sure, Honey, paint away.”
I did not wear a mask when I was in the two stores, but I do believe next time that I go out I will. St. Louis has turned into a hot spot for coronavirus. I was wearing plastic gloves. I completed my tasks at Total Wine and headed to Lowe’s. When I entered the store, I started to head to the paint department. I realized suddenly that I needed to use the facilities. One of the things about being this age is that I know where the bathrooms are in all my favorite stores. In this particular Lowe’s they are located at the rear.
I headed that way, with the urgency becoming more pronounced. I finally reached the men’s room, and I was almost at a trot. I pushed the door open with my shoulder and entered, knowing the urinals are to the left. At this point I remembered that I had on plastic gloves. I made the hasty decision to leave them on. This was partly because I did not have another pair with me, but mainly because I was in a damn hurry.
I started to unzip my Wranglers, but I was having no luck past the first few teeth of the zipper. At this point I was desperate. I was jumping up and down, yanking mightily on my zipper, all the while squeezing what needed to be squeezed with my all might. I was on the point of losing the battle when the zipper finally decided to cooperate. The next chore was to find what needed finding. The plastic gloves were not making this easy. Fortunately, my tribulations had a happy ending… so to speak. I reached down to re-zip, but my zipper was back on strike. I was beginning to scheme about untucking my shirt when the zipper finally accepted contract negotiations and returned to its work station.
Now the debate was what to do about hand washing since I had no other gloves. I finally decided a quick rinse would have to do. This was when I discovered the tip of the index finger of the glove on my right hand was not there. I am sure, dear reader, that you figured this out a long ago, but at the time it was a revelation for me.
I did what I needed doing with my left hand. I punched the card reader buttons with my middle finger. It was the best I could do. I washed my hands vigorously when home, I returned.
So much for practicing safe coronavirus shopping.
Nice ‘teaser’ headline, by the way.