I can totally relate to Sue’s rollercoaster ride of a day. The mundane errands we used to run without a thought (other than, perhaps, a grumbly one) have become big events in our isolated lives.
A day of contrasts by
Sue Robin, Los Angeles, California
Today was an oddity amidst the days of staying inside. There were tax papers that needed to be delivered, a puzzle to drop at Roberta’s and a return to take to the UPS store. We left with masks and wipes and for me, a bit of trepidation. At the UPS store, I slipped my mask on and was able to walk in without meeting anyone else. Roberta’s was easy, as she came to the curb to collect the puzzle and give us another. Then we headed out to the accountant’s office.
It was a miracle in itself. A freeway drive in Los Angeles with just a few other cars on the road. A block from the CPA’s office, I spotted a Trader Joe’s. Out of curiosity, we pulled into the lot to see how long the line was and much to our surprise, there was no line. We decided to adorn ourselves with our fancy masks and pick up a few things. It was the first in-person shopping experience for me in two months. Well-organized, with arrows and tape every six feet, workers all masked and behind plexiglass barriers. It seemed that the workers were being cared for and the customers as well. We headed back to the car with our groceries and as I entered the car and moved my mask down, I suddenly realized that my left hearing aid was not where it was supposed to be.
One minute I am gleeful about feeling safe in the store and the next in a panic. We put the masks back on and retraced our steps. To no avail. I left my name and number with the manager. We headed back to the UPS store. Also no luck, and I again left my info. Home with the groceries and a thorough search of the car, my purse and the house. Putting on the mask and glasses can be tricky as the ties sometimes catch the hearing aid and dislodge it.
After searching fruitlessly, I felt a bit despondent, imagining my savings account shrinking rather quickly. I went out on the lower deck again, looking up to see if it had fallen from the upper deck through the crack and gotten stuck. Long shot, but I needed to check out any possible hiding place before I plunked down another $1000. Then I felt around my clothing one more time. I let out a whoop—the tiny hearing aid had found its way to the bottom of a rather flat pocket, not the kind that would invite an object to slip into it. I was ecstatic.
So many simple pleasures to appreciate today. This was a day to find joy in some ordinary tasks and the pleasure of locating a lost item, all while giving thanks for our good health and prayers to those who have lost their lives, their health and their jobs.