CORONA VIRUS: FEAR OF THE SUPERMARKET

Fear.

I got up this morning and experienced something new for me -- fear. Fear of going to the supermarket.

I'm not what you would call a wallflower. And naturally this whole Corona Virus is a mighty tough scenario for everyone who lives on earth at this juncture.

But this morning was something else -- I wanted to go pick up a few items at the market and I realized that I was dreading the whole experience.

An infinitesimally small item -- the universally hated Covid 19 -- was freaking me out to a degree that I thought twice, no several times about doing what is really a very routine task chez moi.

Usually on market days I throw on some sweats and run into the car, driving quickly up the road. 

Today, however, I had to think about the outfit I was going to wear for the job. I picked out a long sleeved shirt, leggings, socks, a baseball cap, sunglasses and a pair of yellow rubber gloves. And of course, the ubiquitous item to cover my mouth and nose.

I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I looked like a bank robber, tucked away and hidden behind all of that clothing. It's a lot of layers for Miami, especially today when the temperatures had already climbed pretty close to 80 degrees.

At the market many others were dressed like me, or a variation thereof. The fear was that someone, anyone, would possibly sneeze or cough and one of those "droplets" filled with the dreaded Corona Virus would be airborne in my direction. It would "land" on me, it would "infect" me, and I could potentially be one of the many victims of a minuscule threat no human could see with the naked eye.

Yes, I was afraid. But that's what this "global pandemic" has reduced all of us humans to -- we are threatened by something that is like the sword of Damocles, albeit invisible, something which hovers over all and casts a dark, ominous shadow over the entire human race.

Fear. Never have I dressed for the part. And as a human, never have I wanted so badly for something so small to be afraid of me and disappear from where it arrived. 

Out, out damn virus. 

Amen, and pass the toilet paper.