World Turned Upside Down: That Was Unexpected

 

Well, no one can say the current epoch has been without surprises. 

I mean, there are some bombshells that are less surprising to many of us than they have been to others. Your county has been systematically ignoring the mask mandate and you've been posting pictures of your birthday parties and family reunions on Facebook, and now you are shocked (SHOCKED, I tell you!) that schools are going from in-person to remote as far as the eye can see? Huh. You believe your cousin's chiropractor's dog-walker's claim that this is no worse than a cold, then are flabbergasted that your knee replacement is going to have to wait because there are no hospital beds even for heart attack and stroke victims? Science is shaking its head at your amazement.

But once in a while there is a moment of true surprise during this pandemic. 

Last Saturday, for example, was grocery pick-up day. That was not a surprise. I've been picking up groceries since the second wave began (or rather, the latest punch of the first wave) and folks, if there's one wonderful thing that has come out of this malarkey it is grocery pick-up. 

I loooooove it. 

No masking up and holding my breath as I try to reach around the unmasked guy who is not only breathing on all the Honeycrisps but is also touching each one before putting it in his cart. No seeing how many people are spewing death out of their faceholes because they do not know how to properly cover their noses. 

No, curbside pick-up means I place my order online, avoiding the kind of impulse purchases that have led to a bottle of clam juice languishing in my pantry for three years. (Why even?) Then I drive to the store during my pre-appointed pick-up time and someone brings the bags right out to my already-opened trunk. 

It's like having magic elves a computer click away. 

Sadly, Small Town does not have curbside pick-up, so the magic elves live a 35 minute drive away, but that hasn't been a problem because even the round-trip is faster the amount of time I would normally spend doing my grocery shopping, and the lack of clam-juice purchases more than compensates for the gas expense. 

Saturday's shopping trip was not the well-oiled experience I've previously had, though. Husband and I pulled into the pick-up zone well into our scheduled one-hour slot only to get a phone call from the store. "We're running really late, and it's going to be at least an hour before your groceries are ready. Could you go run your other errands or something?"

Husband will tell you that I did not react well to this. In my defense, I had not had my morning coffee yet, but I also will point out that killing time in someone else's town is no longer the grand adventure it was seven months ago. Yes, there's a yarn shop next door but am I going in? Not likely. 

So we drove around for 10 minutes while I fumed and pouted, then we parked back in our spot and I fumed and pouted for another 55 minutes while pointing out that there were only three spots occupied in the 10-car delivery area, and that I could have done the dadgummed shopping myself in less time, and what's the point of life anyway? 

I was a glorious, sunshine-filled companion for a full hour. Then the attendant brought out the bags of groceries, handed me my receipt and hot-footed it back into the store before I could look at the receipt and realize that a full third of my order had not been fulfilled because it was out of stock. At that point Husband suggested maybe we could drive through the Sonic for some coffee--"That might make you feel better?"

Finally we got home, Husband went back to the office to finish a project, and I started carrying in the bags. 

There, at the bottom of the piles of plastic bags, was a surprise. 

Instead of the six bags of frozen Brussels sprouts I had ordered was a cold 12-pack of Smirnoff Seltzer. 

Someone else's day had just been completely ruined, but mine was made. In my follow-up evaluation to the company I pointed out that it would have been nice if the surprise had been some form of chocolate, since the QueenBee family adheres to the "lips that touch alcohol will never touch mine" maxim but we do love our chocolate. Still, it was a lovely thought.

Surprise! And condolences to the recipient of the Brussels sprouts. I hope you love them as much as I would have.