Not much has happened since my last post. The highlight of my week has been the visit by my grocer, Sue. I have a fixed list she takes to the grocery store weekly, and she picks up everything on it. Despite how friendly I am with her, I don't think she has quite...taken to me. She's always nice, but in an almost in a reserved, nervous way. Maybe it's because I don't let her in past the entry hall of my apartment. I just have her ring my bell, place the groceries outside my door, or in the entry hall. She quickly steps back out the door frame, and shifts around as I attempt to make conversation with her. I do want to talk to her, I just don't want her in my apartment. I don't want her dirty sneakers on my just-cleaned wooden flooring. I don't want to ask her to put plastic bags over her shoes and then use hand sanitizer in order to come in my apartment, either. So I just have her stay outside or in the entry hall.

I guess that's why she isn't comfortable with me...but I try. I ask her about how she's doing as I hand her a generous tip. After she darts her eyes side-to-side and says "fine" with a stiff smile in which she curls her lips tightly so they hardly show, I bring up something I read in the news earlier that morning. Usually local stuff. She makes a few comments about it if she's up to date on the news. If not, she let's me inform her for a minute before she gives me a pitiful smile and says "see you next week" before quickly walking down the hall to the elevator. Sue is one of the few people I interact with face-to-face..seeing as this is the extent of our exchanges...well...it doesn't leave me feeling much better, or less lonely.

But I then gather my bags, bring them to the kitchen, and empty the contents on a plastic covering I have prepared for the kitchen floor earlier that morning, knowing the packaging and food from the grocery store is not yet safe for my place. After everything is laid out, I take out my disinfectant wipes and wipe off the food's packaging with them. I use the wipes on cardboard boxes and plastic bags...which most of my food is packaged in. So once that's done I take off my rubber gloves and put the disinfected groceries away.My groceries mainly consist of frozen meals, snacks like chips and crackers, pasta and sauce from a jar, milk, orange juice, grape juice, family-sized package of paper towels, cinnamon raisin bagels, earl grey tea...and butter and cream cheese when I run out. Then of course Sue picks up my toiletries such as razors, anti-bacterial liquid soap, family- sized package of toilet paper, toothbrushes, shaving cream...and shampoo and toothpaste once a month. These are the things that sustain me pretty well here in my apartment everyday. 

My kettle of boiling water has finally begun to hiss. It's time for my nightly tea accompanied by some reading. 

Goodnight,

Marty

Reacquainting myself with the outside world.

I spend all day in my apartment and rarely have any visitors. For a while it was perfect. There's no one to track in mud, germs, knock my belongings out of their designated places. No one questions how I spend most of my time sweeping my apartment's surfaces, as well as my body, with anti-bacterial spray, wipes, and sanitizers. I can comfortably tend to my raw, chapped hands after a days worth of cleaning with out the embarrassment of having to explain why. I can shower after every time I use the toilet with out the harassment of someone telling me how wasteful and pathetic it is. But after years of this kind of life, these little things no longer comfort or please me. They merely satisfy me. I miss living life like a normal person. I miss the company of others without the anxiety of how they interfere with my orderliness and cleanliness.

If not for the Internet, I would be completely alone. But I occasionally email with old friends, classmates, ex-coworkers, distant relatives. I read every section of the news everyday; I keep up with the rest of you. Now I have this blog, for those who care to keep up with me. Whoever finds this and sticks around to follow...I suppose I'm grateful. As well as pretty sorry for you.

Well...it's almost dinner time and my five o'clock shadow has officially made its unsightly appearance. I can no longer rest my chin on my hand, I loathe the feeling so much. It's time to shave and pre-heat the oven for my frozen chicken pot pie dinner. Unfortunately it's all I have until my grocery shopper returns for her weekly visit, which isn't until three days from now. At least I rarely work up an appetite.

Until next time,

Marty