The Plague Diaries: Living at the Hardware Store with Maskless Assholes

The Great Condo Move has sent us to the hardware superstore so many times, it feels like we live there.  It's always stressful to make another hardware store trip because you have to stay alert for Maskless Assholes.  Darwin isn't adept at noticing as I am, and I'm constantly warning him.  "Behind you!" I say.  Or, "Look out to your left."  I pointedly move to the other side of the aisle and flatten myself against shelving to keep six feet from Maskless Assholes who come toward me.  A few Maskless Assholes act sheepish when they see this, others give me dirty looks.  Fuck them both.

We've had to buy picture hangers and door handles for the balcony door and a new washer and dryer and . . . and . . . and . . . At one point, we visited the hardware store seven times in six days.

I've discovered that the hardware superstore near the condo has a much better class of customer than the one down by our old house.  Nearly all the customers wear masks, and the employees are much better about it themselves.

We've also made almost daily trips to the grocery superstore, and not just for groceries.  We needed drawer organizers and wastebaskets and ice cube trays and a thousand other sundry stuff for a new place.  The grocery superstore is also a magnet for Maskless Assholes.

I'm so done with this pandemic.

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