The Joy and Hope of Eggs

Today is going to be a good day: at 7:30 this morning there were eggs for sale in Tesco. Normally I buy six medium free range eggs at a time, but there were only large free range eggs in boxes of 12, so I did not dither. I firmly seized two boxes. There were also some cleaning products on the shelf, so now we are fully armed against the Vile Germ.

I keep meaning to not go to Tesco, where crowds gather, but then, like a grocery junkie, keep going back. Yesterday, though, it was B.A. who went  after our daily walk (more anon). He came back with mackerel, tender-stem broccoli, pre-packaged pannacottas, bread, chocolate digestive biscuits, and a Canon 5150 printer. Yes, we finally have a new printer. It was on sale, and it's not like B.A. can print things at work anymore, being at home.  

Every day I call up my parents on Skype to enliven our solitudes and to make sure they aren't out picking up the Vile Germ in Canadian Tire or wherever. Apparently my father was at the BANK the other day. The BANK.  Courage or recklessness? I will have to consult Aquinas. They seem cheerful and resilient, and Dad consumes the news more than ever. I keep asking my mother about the garden, and it keeps being Toronto in March, so of course she's not in the garden.

I think garden thoughts a lot. I now have two new gardening books: Fruit and Vegetables for Scotland and Veg in One Bed. As soon as I can get my hands on some lumber and a drill or B.A.'s extremely handy colleague who fixed our oven, washing-machine, and front door, I am going to build  a raised bed. Our houseplants are thriving, so this is not a foolhardy endeavour. Besides, this feels like wartime, and in wartime you plant a victory garden. Well, the British plant victory gardens. I have an American friend who just wants to buy a gun.

We have no need of a gun. The weapon of choice in the neighbourhood is a knife, and we have plenty of knives in the kitchen. We also have a screwdriver we keep by the front door although I am not entirely sure why. I think it's for repairs. Incidentally, I am so, so glad we were firmly rooted in cold reality when we had suddenly to buy a flat and did not attempt to get a bigger mortgage for a grander abode.

I'm prone to anxiety, so occasionally I read the latest calming books about Maximum Happiness and other such desirable emotions, and one of them recommends writing lists of 20 things you're grateful for. Then you write 20 good things about yourself, and then you write 20 good things about your "partner" as the person you share a bed with is called in the UK. You're supposed to read these lists everyday, which I don't do, but I appreciate the wisdom of the advice, especially in Times of Trial, like the one we are now all in. This morning I rushed off to Tesco feeling doomed to infection, but then there were eggs in the big egg-cage, and I was so grateful they transformed my day.

Well, now I shall online shop for garden supplies before heaving myself out of my chair to scrub my own kitchen and bathroom, the humanity.