Like everyone else they were keeping pretty much to themselves and the big event of the week was the grocery and dispensary run. J.J. liked the chance to get out and was their designated shopper. He had just returned and was in the kitchen unpacking and washing everything. They had gotten used to washing or disinfecting literally every item they brought into the house as none of them wanted to catch the new virus. The others weren’t sure how much it really helped but J.J. insisted on it. And he did the shopping so they were happy to indulge him.
“Hey, can someone help with drying and putting away?” yelled J.J. to those sitting in the living room.
Mrs. Claus got up and walked toward the kitchen. On the way in she stopped by the big cookie jar on the coffee table and patted it on the lid.
“There’s something about that California lifestyle,” said Mrs. Claus as she smiled and walked on to the kitchen.
She had been reluctant to move to Berkeley with Mr. Claus but realized very fast that the vibe couldn’t be beat. There were places in the world where women her age wouldn’t be caught dead without a bra. But not here. There were places where every other neighbor wasn’t an artist. But she wasn’t sure where. These things gave the city its charm but what really made it for Mrs. Claus was that no one called her out when she said she was Mrs. Claus. The most common response was not disbelief but more about how cold it must be at The North Pole.
“Hey J.J. great that you can brave the public space in these times,” said Mrs. Claus as she picked up a tea towel.
“No problem. California is cool but this social bubble thing is a drag and getting out is my weekly therapy.”
“Social bubble my aching ass. We are on home arrest is more like it,” said Mrs. Claus as she dried off some citrus fruit.
“The alternative is worse. Much worse. Just look at what is happening around the world,” said J.J.
“I know, I know. I exaggerate but still the Council of Elders and the government need to figure something out. People are going crazy.”
“You know I don’t like politics all that much but my money is on the Council of Elders at this point. The government here has been a mixed bag in my humble opinion.”
“At least the people here elected the old fart over the adolescent narcissist,” said Mrs. Claus.
“Unfortunately that won’t help us here and now- we are pretty much on our own,” said J.J.
By way of a response Mrs. Claus ripped open a bag of edibles that J.J. had set on the counter and ate one.
As she walked out she said, “We are so much on our own. That damn virus doesn’t care about political lines- or species for that matter. Just talking about it makes me tired. I’ll see you at dinner time.”
J.J. thought to himself, Damn she’s in a mood. Maybe we shouldn’t have convinced her to give up the smokes and bourbon after all.
