SEND HELP: Once a lone shopper, he pines for his fleeting frugality – Wooster Daily Record

SEND HELP: Once a lone shopper, he pines for his fleeting frugality – Wooster Daily Record

It was with a feeling of trepidation and a deep sense of mission that I’d set out on my first full-blown COVID era grocery run over a year ago.

Fully masked-up with hands planted firmly in my pockets, I stepped inside the sliding door, whipped out a sanitary wipe and went over my shopping cart like I was detailing a ’57 Chevy for a cruise-in.

Then I pulled out my shopping list and got to work moving like a ninja through the fresh foods, creeping like a sniper through a jungle of canned goods, and stealthily skipping aisles occupied by other shoppers to circle back once the corridor had cleared.

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Ten-minute solo mission accomplished; could it be his last?

I touched nothing that what was not destined for my own cart then scanned all my items and paid by debit card at the self-checkout. Throughout the operation I didn’t speak to a single soul and avoided eye contact at each silent encounter.

When the operation was complete, I looked at my watch to note that less than 10 minutes had elapsed. Mission accomplished!

On the drive home I marveled over the ease of the entire maneuver. This wasn’t simply “safe” shopping, it was a miracle of efficiency. The key to my success — to sticking to the list, gathering all the necessities and getting out without being bogged down in endless ruminations on which brand of oatmeal to buy, or worse yet, friendly conversation — was the absence of my wife.

From that first trip on I willingly volunteered to fly solo for the “hazardous duty” of grocery shopping, and I pulled it off in the same flawless manner on each subsequent trip.

At first, Kristin was both pleased and relieved I had taken on full responsibility for provisioning the family. But after a while cabin fever began to set in and she began to envy my brief forays out into the world as a temporary but glorious escape from endless hours of relentless togetherness as we worked from home during the height of the pandemic,

“What if I went to the store this time?” she’d say.

“Oh, you don’t want to go there,” I’d say. “It’s nothing like you remember. The store is basically down to just those same 12 items that I bring home every time, and worse yet, everyone is masked up and silent.”

Then I delivered the kicker: “The pandemic has taken all the fun out of shopping.”

In need of a great escape, grocery shopping becomes a date night of sorts

Through my continuing ruse I was able to whittle our weekly household grocery expenditures down to levels that had not been seen since 1987, when we were college kids living on ramen noodles and popcorn flavored with condiment packets we’d pilfer by the handful from the hot dog rotisserie at the Lawson’s market across the street.

Life was good! As time went on, however, Kristin started to catch on.

“Seriously, John, how bad is it out there,” she’d ask. “Are there really no other choices than generic mac-n-cheese, single-ply toilet paper and store brand soda crackers?”

I kept up my joyful weekly exercise in needless, self-imposed frugality for as long as I possibly could, but once the vaccine arrived I knew my days as a lone shopper were numbered.

With the lifting of the mask mandate my low-budget days of glory have officially come to a close. We now go on dates to the grocery store. It was fun while it lasted, but I figure I’ll stop short of calling it “the good old days.”

Kristin and I would love to hear from you! Write to “Send Help,” P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg 44627. Be sure to check out Facebook for time-lapse film clips of Kristin’s artwork and other fun stuff at JohnLorsonSendHelp.

Published at Sun, 13 Jun 2021 07:42:38 +0000