Jewish people always have something to worry about. I am 90 and am a master of the art. This is a period when one worry flops over another. I prioritize. I look for the least thing of concern and worry about that. I suspect that keeps me in the right mental zone.
My friends, relatives and neighbors worry for me… mainly about food. Am I eating? Do I need anything from the market? Do I have enough water? I am fine and I am lucky enough to be able to have groceries delivered. I cannot wait for it to arrive. Not because of the food but because of the surprises. I never know what will show up.
My last order contained a big bag of Pupperoni. Big sticks of dog chew. I didn’t order it but it came… also in the same order smoked Gouda cheese… well that was… I assume… a free gift for my patronage. Missing from the order were about 10 items I did want. I assume a dog somewhere is unhappy and a cheese connoisseur is miffed.
A friend decided I probably needed water and potato chips. I had no idea how many plastic containers can be hooked together. I also did not know that you can get chips in single size… family size and convention size. The bag brought was humongous. Easily enough chips to last the life of the new long lasting light bulbs that hang around for 30 years.
My plan is to weather the pandemic mourn for its tragedy but find a smile somewhere within. I think in that way I will make it to 91… potato chips and all.