SHOP UNTIL YOU DROP

Amid all the frustrations of our Sydney lockdown Robinson has found something positive. Typical.

She really likes the rule that only one person from each household is allowed to go shopping.

I still have to go along, obviously, to carry everything home. I’m not useless. We’re allowed to exercise together so me tagging along is permitted. I also have to sign her into the shop because she’s too ‘busy’ to get the Service NSW app onto her phone.

I’m sort of her carer, in a way.

Or her slave, now that I think about it.

Anyway, after a couple of trips to the supermarket over the past week she’s declared that shopping without me is tremendous. Apparently when I’m not there I don’t whinge about everything.

She suggested I join the coffee queue while she was in shopping.

It’s a win-win. I don’t have to go shopping but I still get to whinge – I can’t believe how many people there are in this takeaway coffee queue, for example – and eventually I get a fancy store bought coffee instead of that thin lockdown slop I make at home.

Lately I’ve been sexing up this tedious waiting-for-takeaway-coffee routine by pretending to be someone else when they take my order. So far being Jeremy is my favourite. One time when I was Adrian I forgot who I was and went without a coffee even though I’d paid for it.

On the way home Robinson beams as if she’s spent the weekend at an expensive health spa instead of just shopping in a mask. She tells me what she’s bought, which, radically, is whatever she wanted to.

I should have been there and put a stop to it.

She has also cruelly curated my late night sport smorgasbord. She didn’t buy pork pies or potato crisps because ‘all you’ll do is eat them at midnight’.

‘But that’s what they’re for!’ I whine, already in tears.

‘I got you some unsalted peanuts,’ she says as if she’s some kind of dietician or nut guru.

‘A kilo?’ I ask, feeling how heavy the shopping bags are as I struggle up the hill in Wigram Road.

‘100 grams.’

Sadist. I’ve been reading online tips for coping with lockdown and strangling each other isn’t one of them.

And so life sort-of goes on, spiralling out of control. Melbourne hired Three Idiots And A Truck and suddenly we’ve got the Lockdown Showdown! Whingeing Dan versus Golden Gladys.

I don’t care who wins, so long as I don’t have to go shopping any more.

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