Adapting

Many of our neighbors have "adopted" us as the only seniors within striking distance. So we have a cadre of almost a dozen willing personal shoppers, etc. So that's one thing.

Our local supermarkets and other vendors have instituted curbside pickup. I haven't tried it yet, but I could theoretically order online and pick up a small order on my bike. That's another.

And I'm riding a tiny bit longer every day. That's a very big other.

We have been social distancing since March 9 and totally quarantining since March 21. I did ride my bike to a supermarket that was supposed to, but didn't have a "seniors only" aisle on March 21. Another eight days and we should know whether Coronavirus is lurking in our bodies anywhere.

Yesterday I read a recipe for homemade sanitizing wipes: 3 Tbsp of bleach to 2 cups purified water. The recipe called for hacking down a roll of paper towels to the size of an empty wipes container, but I don't think I'll do any of that foolishness. I'll just dip a clean rag in the solution and swab.

There is still no flour of any kind on the supermarket shelves. I have fifteen pounds, which will let me bake bread for another six weeks. I hope the situation will resolve itself by then -- the flour situation, I mean. I have no idea when the big situation will resolve itself.

The woman who gave me the starter told me that I can dry it in a thin sheet on parchment paper, put it in an airtight container, and it will keep for years. If I get really low on flour, I'll do that for insurance.

And so it goes...