Mask yourself - June 24, 2020

My nephew emailed me last week, wondering if I would make him a good mask, with a pocket for a filter and his company logo embroidered on the side.  I said I would.  I ended up making him four masks.  Hopefully, at least one of them will fit. 

The problem, then, was how to get them to him.  He lives 40 miles away.  Ordinarily, I could have sent them to work with The Husband, and my nephew could have picked them up during his lunch hour, but The Husband is working from home this week, so that idea was a no-go.  Fortunately, my nephew has a really sweet sister who lives less than 10 miles from me, and we devised a plan to hop-scotch the masks from here, to my niece's house, to my sister's house, to the nephew's house.

My niece came by to get them yesterday afternoon.  We sat on the back porch and visited for a long time.  Naturally, since masks were the reason for her visit, we talked about them.  She wears one when she goes out in public.  So do I.  She said that she had read that if everyone would wear a mask in public for two or three weeks, we could pretty much end this pandemic.

But too many of you will not comply.

I see you people whining about wearing masks on social media. 

Buncha self-centered pussies, all of you.  And you're the ones who won't observe the social distancing rules. 

I was in the Dollar General a couple of weekends ago (wearing my mask, of course).  There was only one person working in the store, and multiple customers.  Only I and one other customer were wearing masks.  I tried to stay away from folks, especially the un-masked ones.  When I went to the check-out line, there were several people ahead of me, all of whom were standing on the red Xs six feet apart on the floor.  The line wrapped from the counter all the way down the next aisle.  I planted myself on the first vacant X.  While I waited my turn, an un-masked man walked up behind me.  Big, hairy dude.  He stopped on his X, but as the minutes passed, he got closer and closer to me.  The line was moving slowly, and he kept sighing his frustration.  I imagined I could feel his breath on the backs of my arms.  I could not maneuver away from him without getting too close to the un-masked woman in front of me.  When the line advanced and I got to the corner, I stepped around my basket to put some distance between me and the man.  Of course, he stepped up, too. 

I didn't say anything to him about keeping his distance - as I said, he was a big, hairy dude - and now I regret it. 

Next time, I will.

How's this?  "Sir, if you are not going to stay six feet away from me, could you at least not breathe?"