Last night, raindrops spattered on my windshield as I pulled into the local Sam’s club. For the first time in a few days, there was no need to stand six-feet apart from other smooshers waiting to get in this, now, limited-capacity box store of limited-items. The time was later and I was in need of a few items. Just a small amount of things. Mask in hand, briefly, then over my tired face as I entered to be counted among the non-masses for this hazy, misting, overcast Tuesday late afternoon. I was lazily clicked in as #28 on the little black box by a very courteous member service representative who, by all accounts, was eager to be done with her shift. She and I nodded silently in agreement … a very obvious simpatico co-survivor of whatever this is….
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