“Remoted” – Day 117 (Saturday)

It was time to restock key provisions. While I can make do when it comes to being low on people food, the need for dog food forces action every time. The kibble isn’t completely depleted yet, but will be by next weekend. Yesterday’s aborted attempts at Market Basket (left after surveying the full parking lot) and Family Dollar (the store was in the midst of a major layout change and empty shelves) were inspired in equal measure by the need for dog food and the desire for ice cream. The ice cream craving has grown daily all week.

Saturday supper!

Over this morning’s coffee a grocery list was cobbled together from various lists scrawled on paper scraps all week long, then rearranged based on the last known layout of Market Basket on Fletcher Street. There was internal debate as to whether an in-person shop really needed to happen. It would cost less at Market Basket, but there would be people to deal with.  Amazon Pantry would work for dry goods and could be here by Tuesday, but there would still not be ice cream. Whole Foods through Amazon Prime would cost a bit more than MB, but would deliver directly to my door within a few hours, and most importantly, would fulfill the growing need for ice cream. MB was out, it was Whole Foods for the win, which was even more winning upon discovering Ben & Jerry’s was on sale. Dog food and treats will deliver from Amazon by Thursday.

The order was heavy on luxury items – potato chips, tortilla chips, three containers of Ben & Jerry’s, and a container of Whole Foods brand butter pecan ice cream. Non-luxury, important staples were toilet paper, bread, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, butter, milk, and shredded mozzarella cheese. The Whole Foods order was placed at 3:00 and on the doorstep at 5:45.

It was a battle.

Dinner was Ben & Jerry’s and potato chips because I can. This sumptuous repast was a reward for being out in the yard at 7:00 this morning, armed with a trowel, a cultivator, a pair of gardening gloves, and the genetic gift of Finnish sisu coursing through my veins. The mission was to relocate the giant hosta to make room for the corner fencepost. The front yard temporary eviction project began Friday night and ran into trouble. With inadequate tools and possibly the worst time to dig it up (deep in the growth season on a humid, million-degree night), I chipped around the base of the plant with my tiny trowel. The lush leaves were in the way, so a severe scalping with the hedge clippers was administered before again attempting to get under the plant and lift it out.  A temporary truce was finally called and a retreat sounded to the coolness of the house and a glass of wine.

The humid and cloudy morning return to battle first bent, then snapped the trowel, leaving the cultivator and my hands the only available tools. It took effort, but the root ball was finally lifted. If what is left of that heroic hosta survives it’s violent ripping from the ground, it deserves a true place of honor in the yard. You know, like I deserved my ice cream and chips supper.