March 24th, 2020

batou: confused

Day 49/183: Scenes from the pandemic apocalypse

Scene 1 Yesterday. The weather’s nice and we’re digging over the veg patch with the help of the children.

Him: “I’m just going to pop to the garden centre and get some manure and seeds.”
Me: “Good idea.”

45 minutes later

Him: “I bought 300 litres of horse shit and enough seeds and seed potatoes to get us through rationing, when it starts.”
Me: “...”

Scene 2 Today. Weather’s still nice. Veg patch has had manure dug into it and things planted in it.

Him: “If you don’t mind, I’m going to pop to the shops a bit earlier than I have been doing [after the children are asleep] and see if it’s better stocked. I’m not going to panic-buy anything.”
Me: “Sure. OK, no worries, I’ll make dinner.”

45 minutes later

Him, plonking six bags and some large bits of wood on the floor.: “I couldn’t find pasta, rice or eggs, but here are a bunch of gardening supplies and £110 worth of groceries, including tinned spinach.”
Me: “...”

I mean, I’m the American one in this relationship, aren’t I supposed to be the one who goes full underground survival bunker in this situation?

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