Altercation

Rough morning:

Attempted to get groceries. As I walked down my driveway, my neighbor hollered at me from across the street, “Where are you going?!”

I said, “To get food. For my family.”

She huffed, “You go out a lot!”

I said, “I tried to get delivery. I keep trying. What would you like me to do?”

She bellowed, “Every time you go out, you’re spreading it!”

I said, “What would you like me to do?”

We are a family of vegetarians. I have a teenage boy. He will eat an entire pint of blueberries in one sitting. I have a guinea pig who eats a whole head of lettuce by herself. In two days, we’re out of tomatoes. And you already know all about the bananas. We burn through food, even with stocking up and planning. And then there’s that rub: Buy too much and you’re a hoarder; don’t buy enough, you have to go out again. I feel I can do nothing right. My neighbor scowled at me. I am entirely sure she would have been an informant in another time.  

She barked, “You go out too much!”

I said, again, “What would you like me to do?”

I almost said, “I don’t see you offering to get my groceries!”

But I would never. I feel like it is not right to ask someone else to do something I’m capable of doing. I am young(ish). I am currently healthy. Asking someone to expose themselves to disease, or to put themselves at risk for derision--someone might accuse them of going out too much—and enslave them into schlepping me 10 bags of groceries seems immoral—more immoral than potentially spreading the virus myself.

And I try. I really try. When I go out, I don’t speak, lest I “say it and spray it”. I smile at cashiers. I nod politely. I wave. I mime. I wear gloves. I do not cough. Ever. I would bite off my own tongue before I let that happen. It is also entirely possible that I am fine and not the insensitive plague-spreader my neighbor thinks I am.

Most of the times my neighbor has seen me leave my home, I have gone someplace, but not gotten out of my car. Like this morning: I drove to Stew’s, found the parking lot jammed like a regular Saturday. I drove right back home. I didn’t spread anything anywhere. For going out “a lot”, in 16 days I have been to six places: two take-out restaurants, one grocery store, one liquor store, and two trips to the pharmacy. I run in, I run out, like a little mouse. All told, in 16 days, I’ve had less than 90 minutes of being out in the peopled-world. Is that too much? I don’t know.

Today, I am angry. I am angry that my neighbor let loose her judgement instead of keeping her thoughts to herself. I know it is a lot to ask to expect compassion; I know she is scared, but I am not an appropriate target. Go pop off someplace else. I am angry that I have let this ruin my day. And I am angry that, after all this, I still have an empty refrigerator, and will have to get spied on and frowned at again when I try to fill it.