I keep a fervid eye on my toilet paper rolls. I wonder how many my daughter has, but at the same time, I don't want to know, because there simply isn't any more to buy in the stores. What the hell is THAT all about?
I wake up in the middle of the night worrying about what my picky grandson will eat when they run out of his favorite food. I wonder if our great-granddaughter has enough formula. For crying out loud, get a grip, woman!
I am not complaining, I'm commiserating. We are all going through this together, all around the world. And I have it easy. I can stay home.
In addition to doctors and nurses, my current heroes are hospital and nursing home janitors and cooks. I'm grateful for the trash collectors I see out there, and the delivery people who bring us goods. I appreciate my postman who continues to bring my mail. I feel for clerks behind counters at grocery stores and pharmacies, underpaid, overexposed, and unable to take time off. Farm workers!
We all take pride in our work, but it is humbling to discover just who the "essential service workers" are.
I read a story about a young father crying in the grocery store, holding his infant. He couldn't find any formula. Does anyone know how to make your own? Didn't our mothers do that in the 1950's?
|This statue is of a vineyard worker in Napa Valley, California.|