You know what the worst part is about this whole COVID restrictions business? They expect you to wear a mask to the grocery store and not touch anything, but they still provide the same clear plastic vegetable baggies that won’t open.
Every time I tear one off the spool I feel my chest tighten. Inevitably, I’m stranded and left standing in the grocery aisle with a useless bag in my hand that I’ve now contaminated upon contact. I struggle for a while because I still need vegetables, fondling it between the tips of my fingers. The arrows taunt me that I’m working in the right direction, but I try the other side just in case they made a mistake at the factory. It just won’t open without a moist adhesive force! The only thing I can think of is to sneak a lick of my thumb under my mask. I pretend I’m adjusting the elastic for a more secure fit and desperately lick a finger. It opens and I finally exhale, thoughts of COVID dancing through my mind.
That was the apples, now I’m at the tomatoes. My mask is doing double duty to stop the spread and muffle my expletives. This time I give up and rest the tomatoes on top of the bag, hoping they don’t come into contact with the sterilizing agent dripping from the cart.
I’m probably going to get sponsored Facebook ads for silicone veggie bag fingers, $5.99 for a 4-pack. “Never struggle with produce section again! Gluten-free!” Our parents bought vacuum cleaners from door-to-door sales people that lasted a lifetime and we’re relying on people across the globe to solve our disposable veggie bags problems at the grocery store. Perhaps we need suited up staff, tearing and opening baggies for us cart pushing invalids.
Of course, the title of “worst part of COVID” will be passed like a baton to every teacher next week when classrooms fill with young brilliant minds. I wonder how long it will take them to realize that by holding up 2 HB pencils they are equipped with a fully functioning removable sling shot at the ready, holstered around their little faces. I took my mask and a small projectile out to the range (backyard patio) and look out NERF! I mean, it won’t drop Goliath, but it’ll put a dent in any second grader.
I remember when soccer balls were banned from our school playground as being too ‘dangerous’ an object. At first the kids were like ‘Cool, I guess we’ll just stare at the goal posts during recess?’ until the students finally signed a professionally written petition to get their soccer ball back, which they did. Think about it… one banned soccer ball verses hundreds of mandatory sling shots.
Good luck teachers.
Suddenly my plastic veggie-bag issues don’t seem that bad. I’ll just dangle my hands in front of the vegetable misting system.