Day Twenty Eight

 Day Twenty Eight

Filthy lucre

Having confessed, a few days ago, that I’ve been lying to the kind lady who rings to check if I have developed any symptoms of Covid-19,  I now have to confess to money laundering.

Of course  I’m hiding this from the world. Only here will you learn the truth  but PLEASE don’t tell anyone.

Yesterday, my friend Jose, brought me some previously ordered milk, cheese, a loaf and a can of tuna.    She left them in my mailbox where I’d deposited some cash.

In due course, back she came with food, the receipt and the change.

After she’d driven away, I took in the goodies and, as instructed,  sprayed and washed the milk bottles (can cows as well as tigers get C-19?),  the plastic-covered bread and the can of tuna. 

Whoever would have contemplated a day when we’d shampoo our cheese?

I’d read that C-19 germs can be carried on footwear as well as surfaces but Jose’s feet never crossed my threshold.

Then I began to worry.  

What if I’d stood in the same place at the mailbox she had and my fluffy slippers had picked up Covid bugs like fleas?

 I threw the slippers into a bucket and doused them with disinfectant.

That done, I breathed a sigh of relief, washed my hands (137^th time today) made myself a tuna sandwich and relaxed to enjoy my tea.

I was at third bite  when I remembered to my horror I WAS AT RISK FROM MY CHANGE!

I threw down the sammie, donned gloves and mask,  boiled a jug and bunging soap and disinfectant into a dish, laundered the money. 

Perhaps lockdown is getting to me.