Audio Version
“Want me to buy more tampons?” I called out, standing at the door and ready to walk to Rexall for coffee cream. In this age of Covid-19 and social distancing, a quick friend-free walk followed by a speedy purchase has been the extent of both exercise and social life.
My husband joined me in the hall, saying, “Yes please, but don’t get me scented ones.”
That’s when I started to giggle. “What the fk happened to us? You used to ask for wine or beer, and now it’s tampons!”
Paul had used the last of my supply. Not for the intended reason but to soak up his spit.
Before anyone phones me in concern for my husband’s well-being, he’s fine. He’s so fine that he decided to whiten his teeth with bleaching trays.
Now that we’re in almost-self-isolation – until we run out of cream again – Paul has more time for self-improvement. But sitting with bleach-filled trays in his mouth for an hour a day in this week-long regime makes him drool. A lot.
When you live with someone for years, new behaviors aren’t shocking. But the first sight of him watching TV with a string hanging down his chin made me shriek: “Is that a tampon or the tail of a mouse?” I wasn’t sure which answer would make me feel better. My next comment: “Don’t move, I’m getting the camera!”
Scanning the shelves at Rexall today, I reached for the cheapest $3.49 sale box. Brand names and testimonials weren’t required, only the no-scented request.
Then I told my husband/drool/tampon story to the cashier. Sudden snorting and laughter wrinkled her surgical mask while I handed her my money.
Before I walked more than three steps outside the store, I thought, Wait a minute, $13.25 for sale tampons and a pint of cream? That’s not right.
I returned to her line, positioning myself an acceptable distance from the shopper ahead, and showed her the receipt when it was my turn. “I didn’t intend to pay $10 for a few drool catchers!” She laughed again and hurried with me to the tampon shelf to compare bar codes.
“Sorry, our mistake,” she said, and pointed to the correct sale box. I grabbed it and followed her back to the register for my refund, which required a signature with her non-sterilized pen. Luckily, I had my own pen handy.
Outside again, I swabbed my hands with sanitizing gel. Halfway home, I decided to double-check the new tampon box and . . . Scented, dammit! How did I miss that?
I refused to return a third box so walked further to another store. The place was busy! Aren’t we supposed to stay indoors, I thought, at least until we run out of cream for our coffee?
If anyone needs any scented tampons, let me know. Just wait until we’re pandemic-free before we meet up. I’ve crossed paths with enough people for one day.
And If I do contract the virus, you know I’ll blame Paul and his sparking white teeth.
Audio story song “Feeling Good”
by
Doug Maxwell
Tell Your Friends
